The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind
by Petronius
Summary: An epic BtVS, Angel, Lovecraft crossover. Buffy and Faith battle Nyarlethotep, The Haunter of the Dark, in a Cthulhu mythos novel that brings the entire Scooby Gang to the edge of the end of the world!
1. The Beginning and a Farewell

**The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind**

**Chapter 1  
The Beginning and a Farewell  
  
**_by Gaius Petronius_

DISCLAIMER:  
Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB, Fox and Mutant Enemy, Inc. This story can be read on its own or as a sequel to H. P. Lovecraft's "The Haunter of the Dark" from which the Ancient Ones, the Shining Trapezohedron and the character of Robert Blake are derived.

The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind is set roughly in mid-season four shortly following the death of Doyle but before the creation of Adam and the death of Maggie Walsh.

_"Even in our sleep, pain which cannot forget   
Falls drop by drop upon the heart,   
And, in our own despair, against our will,   
Comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God."  
Aeschylus - 5th century BCE_

Morning dawned bright and cool over Inmann Square on Federal Hill in Providence, Rhode Island. The late March wind that blew up the Providence River from Narragansett Bay had a biting chill. The winter of 1937 had been exceptionally cold and spring was sure to be late in coming. As if spring or even summer's warmth itself could cleanse Inmann Square of the desolation that now lay sprawled across its worn paving stones.

In the center of the square, surrounded by ramshackle tenements and dilapidated warehouse buildings loomed the recently burned out ruins of a large stone church. While the granite block walls of the nave remained standing, the interior was completely gutted and it's wooden steeple lay collapsed in a black nightmarish wreck on the paving stones. Wisps of ash blew up in clouds from the rubble whenever the breeze rose. Massive charred timbers from the remnants of the vaulted ceiling projected above the now burned off roof line and pointed at the leaden skies like bony fingers of a long dead being.

The square was empty save for a solitary figure, a uniformed policeman in his early forties, Sgt. Patrick Donaghy, who stood before the ruins as a guard not so much to keep trespassers out as to maintain a watch over what may have been within. The occasional passerby skirted the square's outer perimeter but no one dared cross the open space around the church. Even the first muffled sounds of the early morning traffic on the neighboring streets seemed hushed..

Donaghy didn't move but only stood staring at the destruction in front of him. At first he was unaware of the tall figure striding out determinedly from one of the side streets. The new arrival, Jameson MacDuffie, was young, in his mid twenties, and bare headed with brown curly hair. He wore a long coat drawn together against the morning chill and his hands were thrust firmly in his coat pockets. The sound of his leather shoes clipped sharply on the cobble pavement and echoed in the emptiness of the square.

As he drew near, Donaghy finally sensed his approach but didn't immediately turn to face him. MacDuffie reached Donaghy's side, and the two stood silently together for a few moments.

"Hello, Patrick," MacDuffie said quietly.

Clearly discouraged, MacDuffie didn't reply but only lowered his head.

"I came as soon as I got Howard's letter. . ." MacDuffie continued slowly. "I can see I'm too late."

"Jameson MacDuffie . . . ," the policeman said smiling sadly as he turned to his companion. "It must have been a long trip from California but thank the Gods you _did_ come."

Both men embraced in silence. They then turned to contemplate the burned out hulk in front of them.

"We lost both of them," Donaghy said, his voice barren of emotion, "Howard and Bobby Blake." 

"I didn't know," MacDuffie replied, "But I presumed as much since Howard didn't answer my phone calls. When?"

"Two weeks ago." MacDuffie could see the policeman begin to tremble. He sensed it was not just from the bitter March wind sweeping across Inmann Square.

"They found Howard up at the Arkham Inn. Said it was a seizure brought on by the spreading cancer. And Bobby died two nights later in the College Street apartment. That's when this . . . "

Donaghy nodded towards the ruined church and then fell silent. MacDuffie waited patiently for the policeman to continue.

"And . . .?" he finally asked. "What was the doctor's report on Blake?"

"With the storm that night, the coroner blamed it on the lightning. 'Discharge of extremely high electric voltage compounded with profound emotional shock.' He had to put that part in because of the look on poor Bobby's face. Gods, James it was awful! I got the call and was the first one there. In the final moments, he must have actually laid eyes on Nyarl . . ."

"Sshh!" MacDuffie whispered urgently as he glanced around the empty square.

Donaghy couldn't contain himself any longer. Months of smoldering frustration finally surged to surface as he shouted at the younger man.

"There's no one here, James!" he cried out, and MacDuffie felt the despair in his words. "The few people that lived in the buildings around the square have all fled. No one will come up here! I can't even get officers from the precinct to patrol the area anymore!"

"It's nothing human I'm worried about," MacDuffie answered coldly. "What about the state police?"

"The _Mayor_ would have to put in a request to the Governor for that!" the policeman replied, his voice laced with sarcasm.

". . . Wilkins . . . " MacDuffie muttered, now understanding the futility of his own suggestion.

"Yes . . . no one dares approach _him_." Donaghy almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of it all. "Thank Gods his removal by the state authorities is a foregone conclusion. I hate to think what would have happened if he hadn't been greedy and got caught embezzling city funds. Everyone figures he'll probably run rather than face a trial. Good riddance, too! No one will make any effort to bring _him_ back to face charges."

MacDuffie gave Donaghy a puzzled look. He couldn't believe events had sunk to this level.

"This is Providence, James!" Donaghy snapped, "Everyone knows what goes on in City Hall!"

"Well, on one thing you can breathe easily," MacDuffie said trying to reassure the policeman. "The _Res Profana_ is safe. Howard retrieved it out of the Middlefield College archives just in time. He must have had Blake mail it to me under cover of the crowds in downtown Boston. It's locked away out in California. No one will have access to those spells for a _long time_."

MacDuffie knew after he said them that his words would provide little comfort. Too much was occurring too quickly.

"Somehow, after what happened here, it still doesn't make me feel much better," Donaghy said.

"Tell me," MacDuffie asked gently. "Howard was only able to give me hints in his letter."

Donaghy lowered his voice.

"Both he and Blake knew the planetary alignments in conjunction with the vernal equinox were ominous. The Ancient Ones were about to make another attempt to break out and reclaim their old dominions. Howard particularly knew he had to move fast. If he and Bobby could just hold Them off for three more days, the alignments would change, stripping Them of their ability to materialize in this sphere. The threat would be past and not resurface for another sixty odd years."

MacDuffie shook his head in regretful admiration.

"So Howard acted as the decoy," he said finally understanding the nature of the terrible sacrifice, "luring away Yogsothoth, so Blake could sneak the _Res Profana _out of Middlefield andget it off to me."

"And paid a heavy price," Donaghy replied.

MacDuffie sensed something wasn't right. He faced Donaghy head on and his eyes asked as many questions as his voice.

"But with the key to releasing the Ancient Ones safely out of New England . . . what happened here?" MacDuffie now stared in mounting horror at the ruined church. "What happened to Robert Blake?" and he trembled as he asked the question.

Donaghy answered in a whisper.

". . . he found _it_, James . . !"

MacDuffie's eyes widened with fear.

". . . the Shining Trapezohedron . . ."

". . . the 'Alexandrian Crystal?' . . ." MacDuffie asked under his breath.

"In the tower of the old abandoned Free Will Church," Donaghy nodded towards the wreckage as he spoke and then suddenly turned away from the burned out monstrosity before them. "Howard suspected it was here. Warned him to keep away until he returned, but . . . Bobby was always so curious. He was a brave lad, James.

"What happened?"

Donaghy struggled to keep his voice low but the memory of the events as he recounted them caused him to speak in an ever faster and louder tone.

"Bobby didn't realize what he had stumbled on. He took it back to College Street to study it. But . . ."  
  
Realizing he was quickly losing control, Donaghy lowered his voice again.

". . . Nyarlethotep and the Ancient Ones could sense the Crystal had resurfaced. With the planets in alignment, It had the power to partially cross through from the Void and manipulate poor Bobby's mind. Thank Gods he realized what was happening before the end! Still, he wasn't strong enough to hold it off. All It needed was darkness, and it seemed even the forces of nature were against all of us that night. The storm blew out the electricity to the street lights. A crowd gathered here at the church armed only with candles! They could tell what was happening from the glowing red beacon in the tower. They were desperate! All they had were _candles!_ Any kind of light to hold It back!"

MacDuffie could see the scene in his mind just as he had sensed it from across the country in California: the running crowds, the panic, the blood red color from the tower, the three lobed burning eye searing out of the Void.

"But then the rains and winds doused every candle," Donaghy continued, his voice quivering, "and It burst in a rush through the louvers of the tower, roaring across the sky, homing in on the Shining Trapezohedron. If it weren't for that one stray flash of lightning that held It off, freeing Bobby's mind from Its control for that extra moment! . . ."

"The lightning didn't kill him . . ." MacDuffie said solemnly as he glared at the burned timbers protruding above the granite stones.

"No . . . " Donaghy replied. "He actually _saw_ It . . . in Its physical manifestation in the lightning flash!"

"How do you know what . . . ?" MacDuffie didn't finish the sentence but Donaghy understood the question.

"He was keen to be a scientist." he answered as he shook his head with sad admiration for the dead student. "He never stopped taking notes . . . even up to the last second! His final words were a desperate attempt to describe what he saw!"

MacDuffie said nothing more. He'd never met Robert Blake but knew of him from Howard's long letters describing the two's struggles together to hold back the Ancient Ones. Howard had worked largely alone for over ten years since the Leipzig Massacres that had virtually wiped out an entire generation of Slayers and Watchers. In Blake, he had finally found someone who could take up the challenge, someone he could work with him to give the Council more time to regroup, training new watchers and slayers. And now they both had perished.

"Where is the . . .'Crystal?'" MacDuffie finally asked as he took a deep breath.

"At College Street. I'll take you there," the policeman answered.

Both men turned away from the ruins and together walked purposefully across the empty square. The sound of their footsteps on the pavement stones snapped in the crisp morning air. In another moment, Inmann Square was empty once more save for the blackened bony skeleton of the old Free Will Church. Nothing shifted in the ruins and nothing moved across the square save the whirl of ash lifted by the wind.

In less than a half hour, MacDuffie and Donaghy had made their way across the city from the heights of Federal Hill to the long row of stately colonial era buildings that comprised College Street. Climbing up the stairs of a particular gambrel roof building that had been converted into apartments, the two men stood in the doorway of a small one room studio. The light from the hallway framed them as darkened silhouettes and cast their long shadows across the interior of the living quarters. On the wall facing them opened a single floor to ceiling window that allowed the morning sun to spill across the chaos in the apartment.

The place was a shambles. The panes had been blown in leaving the apartment chilled. MacDuffie stared from the doorway at the view through the window. In the distance, looming up across the city, like a giant arched crooked hand, sat the brooding form of Federal Hill. Shabby tenements surrounded it and swept up its sides until they reached the crest where, even from this distance, the burned out wreckage of the old Free Will Church was clearly visible.

MacDuffie imagined a whirlwind had swept through the room. Everywhere, furniture was overturned, glasses by the small sink were all scattered and broken. Blake's few meager possessions were tossed wildly about and now lay in piles along the edge of the walls.

Opposite the window and shoved against the wall was a small single bed, the mattress half pulled off onto the floor, the sheets ripped and torn and peculiarly scorched. There was no headboard. At the top of the bed and outlined against the wall was a smear of a shadowy grey residue forming an image in the shape of a man seated, gazing, almost writhing backwards away from the shattered window across the room.

As MacDuffie entered, he stopped by the bed and contemplated with growing horror the outline on the wall where Blake had faced his last terrifying seconds. At the same time, he could sense flashes and hints of Blake's final moments. He quickly closed his eyes and rubbed them firmly with his clenched fists as if he could exorcise the nightmare images from his brain. Quickly the horror faded away.

". . . dear Gods . . ." MacDuffie murmured as he stared at the twisted shape on the wall.

Donaghy, who had crossed the threshold of the room behind MacDuffie, held back by the door. MacDuffie, his eyebrows raised in a question, looked over his shoulder back at the policeman.

"I was the first here, James," Donaghy stammered. "I found him . . . and his notes. You can understand why I prefer not to . . ." Donaghy left the sentence unfinished.

MacDuffie, standing by the bed and struggling to regain an objective frame of mind, turned his head in all directions studying the details of the destroyed apartment.

"It's just as it was that morning. Nothing's been moved," Donaghy volunteered but he still wouldn't enter the room further. "The landlord won't have anything to do with it. He demanded the city clean up the damage. I ended up having to call a funeral home in Cranston to come and get Bobby's remains."

MacDuffie walked into the center of the apartment as he surveyed everything around him.

". . . where is it, Patrick? . . ."

"In the back corner there, under what's left of the writing table." Donaghy pointed to a mound of clothing and debris pushed up against the wall.

MacDuffie stepped over to a large pile of broken and charred wood fragments, the remnants of a modest desk. Kicking them aside with his foot, he suddenly stopped as the faintest hint of light shined up from the floor. He stooped down and carefully lifted up a crystalline shape, roughly the size of a flower pot but formed like a wildly distorted octahedron with multiple star points thrust out at irregular angles. The object emitted a pulsating light of a peculiar wavelength, not quite blue and not quite red but rather of an unidentifiable spectrum.

MacDuffie breathed quickly as he tore off a piece off the singed bedspread and wrapped it around the object. Donaghy took a step backwards towards the door as MacDuffie bundled up the Trapezohedron. He called out reassuringly to the policeman as he wrapped more scraps of cloth around the crystalline object.

"It's all right, Patrick. It didn't get across. Blake must have managed to seal It up in the aether between our world and the Void where It was originally cast out. . . . It's trapped there now . . . in the realm of the unconscious."

"Gods!" Donaghy exclaimed and he shivered.

"It can't get out for now," MacDuffie replied as calmly as he could, "but It is close, very close . . . in dreams and nightmares . . . among the comatose and the dying, that's where It lurks . . . waiting." He could sense Donaghy's panic finally bubbling to the surface.

"James! With Howard and Bobby gone there's nothing standing between us and . . !"

"Calm down, Patrick . . ."

Donaghy was not so easily soothed. He stared back and forth like a cornered animal, and his words now came in a torrent.

"James, all our defenses are down! The minions of the Ancient Ones are on the move everywhere!"

Donaghy now began whispering as if the dreaded dark forces themselves lurked just outside the apartment doorway.

"There was even another assassination attempt in England last week against the Council itself! No one's talking but I'm pretty sure at least three Watchers were killed. It's like the beginning of the Leipzig Massacres all over again!"

"I know," MacDuffie gritted his teeth with hatred as he spoke. "The attack had that scum Goebbels' fingerprints all over it!"

"They even have troops and tanks massing on the Austrian borders right now! They're about to break out James and if they've found a way to open the Void . . .!"

MacDuffie set the wrapped Crystal on the bed and turned to the frightened officer. He reached out and took the policeman by the shoulder.

"Easy, Patrick," he said firmly. "They haven't! They're overconfident, possibly fatally so. We must keep our wits about us, especially now. Besides, it's not all as bleak as that."

MacDuffie gazed out the window across the city to Federal Hill. Donaghy followed and both men stared over the rooftops at the growing sunshine spilling down from the sky.

"Howard and Blake did what they knew they had to do," MacDuffie said with respect. "Howard especially. He stood alone over the last ten years, and bought us all valuable time. There's a whole new generation just finishing training right now thanks to him. Slayers, Watchers. We're ready to fight back Patrick! It's going to be a dark few years, no one says it'll be easy, and the end won't come in our lifetimes. But at the Dawn of the new millennium our childrens' children will sleep the better for it."

"You've _seen_ it then, lad?" Donaghy asked and his voice trembled, this time with hope.

MacDuffie nodded slowly.

"Yes," he answered. "The One who's yet to come. She'll be special, different from all the others. She's the one who'll close the portal for good and seal the Ancient Ones up forever. Powerful, passionate, She and a group of young people like her will accomplish what we can only dream."

MacDuffie pointed to his forehead as he spoke.

"Patrick, you and I, we fight with our minds, but they will fight with their hearts. In _their_ eyes, we struggle as in the past since they will be of the future. Howard, in his last letter, called them . . . the 'Guardians of the Gates of Dawn.' He swore that no matter what happened, he would stand and wait for them."

"I wish I could _see_ . . . like that," Donaghy told the young man.

Sometimes it's a gift, sometimes a curse," MacDuffie mused. He then faced the older policeman and spoke with conviction.

"The key is to act upon what you see!" he said. Finally reassured, Donaghy nodded in agreement. MacDuffie turned back towards the bed and scooped the Shining Trapezohedron, now hidden beneath layers of torn rags, up in his arms.

"It's time for us here to do _our job!" _he announced. "We, too, must prepare the way. This must be secreted away now along with the _Res Profana_. It must not see the light of day until She's ready to fulfill her destiny, and that will be long after you and I are gone."

MacDuffie swept by Donaghy as he quickly left the room. Donaghy trailed behind as the two men descended the second floor staircase.

"James!" Donaghy cried out. "Where are you going?"

"Back to California," MacDuffie replied brusquely. "There is nothing more to accomplish here. But I do have to make one final stop."

The Swan Point Cemetery overlooking Narragansett Bay sprawled down the hillside with the icy waters of the bay seeming to float in the distance somewhere between the end of the land and the horizon. Here the winds were even stronger than they had been in Providence and, overhead, billowing clouds rushed in off the stormy Atlantic. Jameson MacDuffie stood alone by a marble obelisk marker in the center of a family burial plot. Both his curly hair and long coat blew in the ocean breeze. Under his arm he held the Shining Trapezohedron concealed in the tattered pieces of cloth.

At first he stared at the ground near the marker where the earth had been recently turned. It was a fresh grave with no individual stone to indicate who lay there. He then looked up and gazed out into the empty air in the direction of the bay. Several seagulls floated by overhead, effortlessly riding the steady breeze on their way out to the open ocean.

"I don't know how to tell you . . . how much we owe you," MacDuffie said quietly as if to someone who was no longer there.

"I'll miss you Howard, especially your kind letters. We are all the poorer. But I envy you one thing, you know. "

He waited for a moment in silence as if the wind off the bay would bring him an answer.

"I have none of the powers you command. I doubt I'll be around . . . to meet Her . . . when She comes. I try but I can't even imagine what She'll be like except maybe . . . the smile. And the strength of her spirit that will be willing to sacrifice all that She is. . . to save the world."

MacDuffie shook his head and sighed deeply once more.

"It's not fair," he said slowly, "that we should all depend so greatly on one soul. Howard, comfort her if She's afraid; wipe away her tears when She realizes what She must lose. And when She finally falls, as She is fated to do, stand guard over her soul so that it may find the peace and happiness that so eluded her in life."

MacDuffie stared out into the distance and concentrated, trying to see beyond the cramped and ancient stones of the Swan Point Cemetery, beyond the bay, beyond the horizon, beyond the walls of time itself. In his mind, he saw night falling and the old stones all around him metamorphosing into the ordered rows and neat landscaping of a new cemetery somewhere distant in the future. For a moment, he felt himself there, actually standing on the site.

"I hope you've heard my prayer . . ." he whispered to the midnight darkness in a time not yet come and to the stones of those still waiting to die.

"Howard, my good friend . . . farewell."

And then he was gone.

For a few moments nothing stirred.

Then, Buffy Summers, stake drawn, eyes glaring tensely ahead, strode purposefully from between the tombstones in the Sunnydale Cemetery as she moved on patrol. Clearly nervous, she sensed something just beyond the limits of her vision. She stepped out into a clearing between two crypts and came to a sudden halt.

Emanating from beyond the surrounding monuments, a red glow rose from one focused point out in the darkness. It built in intensity as it floated forward into the clearing towards Buffy. She raised her arms in a defensive stance.

"All right, that's it!" she yelled defiantly at the phenomenon. "You've been stalking me for three nights now! Get out here so I can kick your butt!"

Suddenly Riley Finn slipped sheepishly out from a border of bushes on the edge of the clearing where he had been hiding. Clothed in his camouflage outfit, he carried an electronic rifle mounted with an infrared scope. In surprise, Buffy glanced over her shoulder. The fury welled up in her again, the fury at his constant meddling in her work, the fact that he continually followed her while on patrol as if she couldn't take care of herself.

"Shit! Not you, you jerk face!"

Ignoring the insult, Riley raised his rifle and took aim at the threatening red light, now coalescing into an oval shape. Within the sphere, the light formed into three separate orbs each with a central focal point. Around its outer perimeter, the red light started to whirl about the focus in a sweep of growing flames. At the same time, the voices of Xander, Anya and Willow shouted from out in the darkness. The beam of a flashlight, penetrating through the bushes, waved wildly in the air.

"Will! I know it's this way!" Xander announced, trying his best to be assertive.

"Xander! Buffy's over here."

"No Will! This is the path! I'm sure of it!"

Suddenly Buffy and Riley heard the dull thud of flesh hitting stone . The flashlight beam suddenly dropped to the ground.

"OW!" Xander squalled from out of the bushes.

"Is this fun?" Anya's sarcastic voice cut through the darkness like a loosed arrow. "You said when Willow called we were going to go have fun. I don't see any fun here, just a lot of dead people."

Finally Willow stepped into the clearing followed by Anya who held up a limping Xander. Xander nursed his bruised knee with one hand and waved the flashlight around with the other.

"What the hell are you guys doing?! Get outta here!!" Buffy screamed.

The coalescing red form floated in ever closer. A stench from the crimson shape swept around them all, and Willow began to gag. Buffy stepped back as Riley advanced to her side. Anya's eyes fell on the entity which she recognized immediately.

"This . . . is _not_ fun!" she announced firmly.

Quickly, she grabbed Xander's flashlight and directed the beam into the center of the three forming red orbs. A rush of air swept by them. Buffy imagined that the entity was emitting some kind of silent scream. Then, like the vanishing ripples where a stone has fallen into a still pond, in an instant, the blazing phenomenon dissolved away as the artificial light made contact. Buffy, Riley, Xander, Anya and Willow were left standing in the darkness with only the beam of Xander's flashlight to illuminate the surrounding graveyard.

Buffy dropped her defensive stance and glared in anger at each one of the Scooby Gang.

"Oh, oh, here it comes," Anya said under her breath.

Buffy's last look of fury was reserved for Riley. She tried to speak but at first she couldn't form the words to express how furious she was with them all for following her.

So instead she just seethed while the rest of the Scooby Gang stood waiting for the explosion.

"This is not good! This is _sooo_ not good!" Buffy finally spat out as she turned in disgust and stormed out of the clearing.

No one moved.

"Well, . . . that wasn't so bad," Anya finally announced with a perky grin.

* * * * * * *


	2. A Warning

**The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind**

**Chapter 2  
A Warning  
  
**_by Gaius Petronius_

DISCLAIMER:  
Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB, Fox and Mutant Enemy, Inc. This story can be read on its own or as a sequel to H. P. Lovecraft's "The Haunter of the Dark" from which the Ancient Ones, the Shining Trapezohedron and the character of Robert Blake are derived.

The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind is a Buffy/Angel crossover set roughly in mid-season four (BtVS) shortly following the death of Doyle but before the creation of Adam and the death of Maggie Walsh.

Rating - PG-13 for language, violence and a racy scene or two.

Synopsis:  
At the dawn of the new millenium, an ominous planetary conjunction threatens to tear the fabric of space/time, opening a passage between the Void where the evil Ancient Ones are imprisoned and the present reality. Led by Nyarlethotep, "the three lobed burning eye," the Ancient Ones threaten to break loose, reclaim their old dominions and destroy the world. The only thing standing between them is a sole legendary Guardian . . . and a prophecy about a Slayer who is doomed to lose her soul to save the world.

* * * * * * *  
Cordelia Chase was busily buffing her fingernails with an emery board. She examined the results of her work carefully, inspecting each nail as if she were a diamond cutter crafting the perfect angle on every facet. And she was bored senseless. The telephone was still silent. It was always silent. No customers, no auditions, no nothing.

The space occupied by Angel Investigations in the dingy old building was dark and lifeless, the furniture all second hand, the office itself paneled in some unidentifiable wood composite that might have been popular in the 1920's. As Cordelia glanced up from her nail work, she imagined that this "suite," as Angel referred to it, must have been designed and finished during an era when everyone in the world was at least forty years old.

Angel remained out of sight behind the closed door in his own wing of the office. Ever since Buffy had made her unexpected visit to Los Angeles two weeks earlier, he had been locking himself away for hours on end. Cordelia shook her head in disgust. Angel was tough enough to deal with anyway, but after Buffy returned to Sunnydale, he had shifted into full Brood Dude mode.

Cordelia couldn't even strike up a conversation with the vampire, much less squirrel a raise out of him. She stared at the ceiling and sighed. She had been sitting behind the receptionist's desk for hours.

Suddenly, the telephone rang, the sharp sound piercing and grating. Cordelia jumped in her seat. For just a second, she stared baffled at the phone.

"A customer!" she exclaimed as she quickly attempted to compose herself. With lightning speed, she pulled out her compact and examined her image in its miniature mirror. She smacked her lips insuring her lipstick was even, inspected her eye makeup and lightly fluffed the waves of her long brown hair. Slipping the compact away, she straightened herself in her chair and finally lifted the phone receiver.

"Angel Investigations," she crooned to the telephone, "We help the hopeless. How may I help you?"

Cordelia struggled to concentrate on the voice on the line, but within seconds her eyes glazed over. Her face twitched as she felt waves of pain sweep across her forehead and spread up into her scalp. "Oh NO!" her mind screamed as realized she was experiencing the first throws of a vision.

"Damn it, Doyle!" she cursed under her breath. "Not now!"

Battling to maintain her composure, she mustered her best professional receptionist's tone as she responded to the caller.

"May I put you on hold? Thank you. One moment please."

As she pushed the hold button on the phone, her body was racked with the convulsions that accompanied her visions. The telephone receiver fell with a clang to the desktop as she covered her contorting face with both hands and swayed back and forth in the chair. In a moment more, she toppled over out of sight behind the desk onto the floor, taking the chair down with her in an enormous crash.

As Cordelia rolled on the floor, the front door to the office opened and slammed shut. Wesley Windham Price, dressed in an unmatched vest and frayed tweed jacket, his face buried in a book and a manila folder clutched in his free hand, paraded into the office. Oblivious, he swept by, dropping the folder on the desktop where moments before Cordelia had been manning the telephone.

"Good evening, Cordelia," he announced perfunctorily, not looking up from his book, "Please add this to the Manning file. It's some follow up material."

Hidden from view, Cordelia thrashed around behind the receptionist's desk. Wesley marched up to the door of Angel's private office and rapped on the opaque glass of the door. There was no response. Wesley tapped again, a little louder this time. Finally the door opened and a clearly annoyed Angel stuck his head out.

"What is it now, Wesley?!" Angel snapped.

"Just that I found some additional information on the Manning matter that I think you really ought to . . ."

Before Wesley could finish, Angel knew something was wrong.

"Where's Cordelia?" he almost shouted. Then he saw a foot protruding from behind the receptionist's desk.

Cutting Wesley off, he pushed roughly by and swooped over to Cordelia. Kneeling down beside her, he swept her tall thin body up in his arms, pulled the chair upright once more and sat her up.

"Cordelia! Are you all right?"

"Oh my goodness!" Wesley babbled as he scrambled up to the vampire's side. "I didn't realize . . ." He then glowered at Cordelia. "Well you must speak up when something like this happens!"

"Shut up, Wesley," Angel growled over his shoulder. He was getting really annoying. "Cordelia . . . can you hear me?"

Very slowly, Cordelia began to throw off the effects of the vision. She struggled to breath steadily once more and looked up into Angel's eyes.

"Are you going to be okay?"

Cordelia just nodded. All of a sudden her eyes widened in panic.

"Shit!" she exclaimed.

She leaned forward over the desk, grabbed the loose telephone receiver and hit the hold button in an attempt to retrieve the call.

"Thank you for holding," she struggled to recapture the professional receptionist's voice. "This is Cordelia Chase. How may I help you?"

Both Angel and Wesley could hear the buzz of a dial tone. Cordelia slammed the receiver down.

"Damn! And that was a live one, too!" she yelled.

"Cordelia, what was it? What did you see?" Angel asked as calmly as possible.

Cordelia ignored him.

"This is getting more than inconvenient!" she ranted. "Last week I spilled coffee all over the new invoice forms!"

Angel waited patiently for the torrent of words to ebb. Absentmindedly he mused at how Wesley babbled but Cordelia chattered.

"Now we lose a paying customer!" she continued turning in a panic to stare up at Angel. "What if it happens while I'm in the middle of a big audition?!"

"If it's for a horror movie, you'll get the part," he answered with a grin.

"This isn't funny Angel! These visions are killing business, . . . what little business we have!"

"Cordelia, they're the reason we have any business!"

"Oh . . . yeah."

"What did you see?" Angel asked again gently.

"But what if it happens while I'm out on a date!"

"You'll just make it an early night. Nothing new, right?"

Cordelia scowled. Angel pressed on, his question more insistent.

"Cordelia, what did you see?"

She didn't respond for a moment. Her frown spread further up her face, so much so that Angel almost made a remark about wrinkles but held his tongue. Then, suddenly a look a fear washed across her face. She began to sway as if she was about to pass out. Angel gripped the receptionist's chair so that it wouldn't tip over again. At the same time, Cordelia stared deep into the vampire's eyes but said nothing. He nodded, encouraging her to speak.

". . . red . . ." she whispered

"And?"

". . . there was fire all around, flames . . . and something in the middle," Cordelia answered, her voice trembling. "It was like there were three eyes . . . but they were one. And it was searching."

"Not too much to go on. Anything else you can remember?" Wesley asked urging Cordelia to volunteer more information to make his upcoming research a little easier.

Cordelia didn't respond at first as if she were afraid of something else she had seen in the vision.

"It's okay," Angel said as he hovered protectively over her. "We'll get right on it." He slid a blank pad of paper and a pencil over in front of her.

"Here. You start sketching what you saw," he said as he turned to Wesley. "Wesley I want you to . . ."

"No! It wasn't here in LA!" Cordelia cried out. "It was back home . . . in Sunnydale!"

Angel froze in his tracks, and Wesley drew in a sharp breath.  
  
"And It wasn't just searching for something . . ." Cordelia's voice began to quiver under the strain. "I think it was also after . . . someone . . ."

Angel was silent, for the first time fearful of what he was about to hear.

"Do you know who?" Wesley finally asked after a pause.

Cordelia spoke as if she were recounting something from a nightmare.

"It was looking for someone with power . . . like a Slayer. Angel, I can't be sure, but it felt like . . . it was coming for Buffy!"

Angel stood immobile, his eyes widening as the impact of Cordelia's vision sank in. He stepped back from the desk and stared out the window over the Los Angeles streets bathed in artificial light.

"Perhaps . . ." Wesley offered sheepishly, "We should call Giles and warn him?"

"That's the first good suggestion you've had all evening," Angel said, and he realized why he still tolerated Wesley. Sometimes he just stated the obvious.

Wesley smiled at the compliment.

"You want me to call?" Cordelia suggested, sensing the vampire's discomfort at the prospect of phoning old haunts. "Just in case you-know-who picks up?"

"No, . . . that's okay. Thanks anyway," Angel responded flatly.

Immediately sensing an opening, Cordelia turned on her perky voice.

"You're the boss . . ." she said brightly. "Now how about that raise?"

"Cordelia . . . just draw."

"Pooh!"

Cordelia scowled again as she picked up a pencil. Slowly Angel lifted the telephone receiver on the desk, took a deep breath, paused and dialed Giles' number in Sunnydale.

The lights were low in Giles' apartment. Illuminated by a single floor lamp, Giles and Spike sat around the coffee table by the sofa. Giles nursed a glass of neat single malt scotch. Leaning forward from the sofa, Spike nervously sipped from a large pint pub glass filled with a dark liquid that, in the dim light, could have been mistaken at first for Guinness except for its deep crimson hue. Every few moments rolling dice clinked on the glass top of the table. Spike muttered whispered oaths, but Giles wore a self satisfied smile.

Spike tossed the dice across the coffee table, cursed under his breath and scribbled something on a small pad of paper at the same time as he set his glass down on the table top.

"Please, use a coaster," Giles begged as he slid across the table one of Spike's cheap cork cutouts imprinted with the logo of a sleazy topless demon bar.

Spike only growled in response. Giles reached out, collected the dice, shook them in a small cardboard rolling cup and tossed them back out onto the table. Seeing the result of the roll, Spike's eyes blaze with fury.

"Bloody Damn Hell!"

"Yahtzee!" Giles announced smugly.

Spike swung his arm out in a fury scattering the dice and score pads off the table. He flopped back onto the sofa and sipped his drink in sullen silence.

"No reason to lose your temper, you know" Giles lectured as he collected the score pads and pencils off the floor. "Clearly games just are not your forte. You're no good at Bridge. Not much better at Cribbage and Backgammon. Xander beat you at War and if I hadn't stepped in and stopped that game of Strip Poker between you and Willow, she would have left you with little more than . . .

"Shut up! Just shut up!" Spike snapped.

This was the third week Spike had been holed up at Giles' apartment, and both were clearly getting on each other's nerves.

"We'll just have to find some other way to occupy your time until we can determine what The Initiative has done to you," Giles said, all the while trying to control his temper. "This afternoon's All My Children tape is over by the VCR."

Spike sighed as if Giles' suggestion were his last resort for any kind of entertainment.

"You want to watch it with me?" Spike asked, his voice dripping boredom. "That Alex is a foxy bird. I give her less than a week before she's in the sack with Edmund."

Suddenly, the door to the apartment flew open, the inside handle hitting the wall with a crash. The noise caused Giles to nearly leap out of his chair. As he jumped, his knee hit the edge of the coffee table, spilling the glass of single malt scotch across the table top. Buffy Summers stormed in.

"Giles! Giles!"

Giles stared at the spreading puddle of ten year old scotch.

"Did you hear someone knock?" he announced sarcastically.

Spike shrugged his shoulders as if to say "Not me."

"Giles! I just came from the cemetery . . . !"

Giles raised his hand for silence, interrupting Buffy's outburst. He glared at her for a moment, then turned and walked over to the door. As he pulled the door shut, he revealed a hole punched by the door handle in the wallboard where Buffy had slammed it open. Instantly, Buffy's bravado wilted when she saw the damage.

"Oops . . ."

"How good are you with spackle?" Giles dead panned.

"Sorry . . . but Giles I saw it again tonight!"

"Your 'thing' in the cloud of red flames?" Giles asked as he started to wipe up the spilled scotch with a dishcloth. For an instant he entertained the wild idea of bending down and slurping up the precious amber liquid off the glass but shuddered at the crudity of the thought. "That's three times in the last week?"

"Yeah," Buffy answered with a touch of fear in her voice. "Giles, . . . you haven't found anything yet about what it is?"

"Nothing specific, no," Giles said as he headed into the kitchenette and squeezed the cloth out into the sink. He watched mournfully as a thin trail of scotch, the result of a decade of careful aging in oak barrels in the Scottish Highlands, now trickled down the drain. He sighed deeply.

"Your description is not really much to go on. I have been looking . . ." Giles glared over at Spike who answered with a snotty face in return, ". . . when I haven't been preoccupied baby sitting!"

"I don't have to stay around here and take this muck from you!" Spike snapped as he made a move to get up from the sofa. "I could walk out that door right now!"

"Do it! See how long you last!" Buffy snarled.

His bluff called, Spike turned away and muttered more oaths to himself. At the same time, the telephone rang.

Slightly surprised, Giles looked over at the phone. "Who would be calling at this hour?" he mused to himself. Slowly he stepped over to the telephone stand and picked up the receiver. He listened for a moment and then, as he began to speak, his eyes fell on Buffy.

"Angel . . . ?"

Buffy squirmed on hearing the first word of the conversation.

"Good to hear from you . . . I see . . . When? . . . yes . . . no she's fine although we have had a run in or two with something similar to what you've described. I'm checking into it now. I'll let you know what I find. And Cordelia's all right?"

Giles grinned slightly as Angel described how Cordelia was holding up under the visions. At the same time, Buffy's gaze was riveted on Giles. On the sofa, Spike sat straight up, relishing the building tension in the apartment.

"You're right," Giles continued with a smile. "She may not be half demon like Doyle but you'd never know it. You'll let me know if anything else develops on your end? . . . Good. . . . Buffy?"

Buffy's eyes widened, and she drew in a small sharp breath at the mention of her name.

"Yes, she's right here . . . Would you like to speak with her?"

Giles held the phone out to Buffy. At first, she started to shake her head, begging Giles not to make her talk to Angel. However, a quick glance over to the sofa revealed Spike, who was smirking evilly, about to make a crack so quickly she gulped and took the phone.

". . . Hi . . ." she said uncomfortably into the receiver. "Yeah, I'm okay. No, really. It hasn't done anything yet."

In the office of Angel Investigations, Angel wanted to lower his voice so Cordelia and Wesley couldn't overhear the conversation. The attempt was futile. He could see out of the side of his eyes the others were drinking in every word.  
  
"Buffy, I'm guessing from Cordelia's vision, this entity needs the power of a Slayer for whatever it's trying to do," Angel said, trying to keep the conversation all business. "That's why it's stalking you. It's sizing you up, checking you out for any weakness. Until Giles finds out what we're dealing with, we have no idea what it's capable of. Please . . . be careful."

"I will," Buffy said softly. "Angel. . .?"

Buffy paused as she weighed whether she should say some of the zillions of things she had on mind. There was so much she wanted to say, so much she wanted to share. She almost blurted everything out right then and there but she glanced over her shoulder towards the sofa. With Spike and Giles glaring at her, she decided otherwise.

". . . I . . . I'm sorry . . . about Doyle," she stammered. "How's Cordelia holding up? . . ."

Angel's answer made her grin, and Giles sighed as the tension eased somewhat.

"Yeah, she's strong," Buffy replied. "It's the bitch factor. . . . Look, I gotta go. Thanks for calling. . . Yeah, you too. Take care."

Buffy slowly replaced the phone receiver in its cradle. There was a long pause. As Spike was about to open his mouth, Buffy turned and cut him off with a voice like a razor.

"Don't even say it!"

At the same time, Angel slowly lowered the phone. Both Cordelia and Wesley waited anxiously for him to speak.

"Well? . . ." Cordelia asked, the anticipation bringing the color back to her face.

"Huh?" Angel responded blankly, looking up at her.

"How is she?"

"Buffy?"

"No! Brittany Spears!" Cordelia snapped. "Of course, Buffy! Geez! You gotta get outta the office once in a while!"

"She's all right," he sighed, realizing that there was no way he could escape Cordelia's interrogation.

"That's a relief!" she smirked and turned to Wesley. "Every time 'stake girl' gets in trouble," Cordelia thumbed at Angel, "he gets all like . . . 'ggrrr!'"

Cordelia made a snarly face and wiggled her fingers in front of her mouth like fangs.

"You notice," she continued, "how we haven't gotten crap done around her for over two weeks!

"Oh, I'm sure it's not all that bad," Wesley said coming to Angel's defense. "These things take time you know and . . ."

Cordelia suddenly interrupted Wesley before he could continue his dissertation on the vagaries of romance. She was frowning again as if the impact of the vision were about to return.

"Angel," she said ominously.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I suddenly realized . . . ," she answered as she stared around the office. She looked like her eyes were searching for something lurking beyond the shadows or just outside in the dark hallway. "Angel . . . That flaming thing I saw. . . 'it' knows I've seen it."

Angel didn't respond but turned to stare out the window at the blanket of night spread over Los Angeles.

"I'm afraid. Take me home," Cordelia whimpered.

"Sure. You need a hand up?"

"No, I can manage."

Cordelia stood up from the chair. For a moment she swayed unsteadily on her feet. Angel put his arm around her shoulder for support and led her out the door. As they passed in front of the desk, Angel spoke quickly to Wesley.

"Man the phones. I'll be right back," he ordered as he and Cordelia headed for the door.

"But . . . but . . . what do I do?" Wesley asked in a panic as he stared at the now ominous three line telephone.

"If we get any calls, just punch the button for line one and take messages," Cordelia called out over her shoulder as she and Angel left the office, the door slamming behind them.

Wesley was on his own. As the impact of the situation began to sink in, he stood bewildered for a moment and then slowly sat down in the receptionist's chair. He stared at the phone in front of him on the desk as if it were rigged with explosives, ready to detonate if he should so much as breath on it.

"This shouldn't be too difficult," he muttered to himself. "After all if Cordelia can handle it . . ."

Suddenly a loud ring cut him off in mid sentence. Wesley jumped at the noise and stared for a moment at the ringing phone. Gingerly he picked up the receiver, put it to his ear and punched a button on the telephone panel.

"Angel Investigations," he said hesitantly. "We help the hopeless. How may we help you?"

Instead of an answer, Wesley only heard a dial tone. At the same time, the telephone continued ringing. Flustered, he punched another button.

"Angel Investigations. We help the hopeless."

Still only a dial tone. Nevertheless, the phone continued to ring. Reaching the verge of exasperation, Wesley punched a third button, this time with a little unwarranted force. The ringing suddenly ceased.

"That's better," he thought, confident he finally had the hang of the miserable communication device. He announced the name of the company to the caller with supreme self confidence.

"Angel Investigations. We help the hopeless. How may we help you?"

Wesley listened to the response and a puzzled look crossed his face.

"Well . . . I suppose we could deliver," he sputtered in confusion ". . . but . . . 'take out?' What number are you calling?"

* * * * * *

Angel and Cordelia sped down the freeway in his black '67 Belvedere GTX. With any luck, he could have her at her apartment and then be back to the office in less than fifteen minutes. The thought of Wesley manning the phones was more than a little disconcerting.

Angel squinted behind the wheel as they approached a stretch of several hundred yards of highway construction where the overhead street lamps were burned out. All at once, the night seemed to swirl in around them, and details of the highway itself appeared to vanish in the intensifying darkness. Cordelia stared straight ahead as the night virtually swallowed up the headlight beams of the GTX. She fidgeted in the seat and Angel sensed her uneasiness.

"Cordelia? . . . What is it?" he asked, recognizing the fear that now swept over her again.

She didn't answer but only stared straight ahead. Suddenly her face convulsed in terror, and she grabbed the steering wheel, yanking it to the right as she screamed at the same time.

Caught by surprise Angel struggled with the wheel.

"Cordelia! What the Hell are you doing!" he yelled.

The car lurched wildly to the right. In the same instant, from out of the inky void in front of them, an orb of red light hurtled towards the convertible in a blazing arc. It struck the pavement just yards away from where Cordelia swerved the car to the side and exploded in a burst of flames.

Angel immediately realized he wasn't able to see what had them under assault but Cordelia, for whatever reason, could. Without relinquishing the wheel, he allowed enough play so she could turn the speeding car. Cordelia screamed again and yanked the wheel to the left.

The Belvedere swerved into the high speed lane, cutting off a passing BMW behind them. A horn blared and brakes shrieked as the BMW skidded against the Jersey barrier and spun out, barely avoiding hitting the GTX. At the same time, a second blazing orb exploded in the middle lane only a few feet beside them. The flash of red light illuminated the black interior of the convertible.

And then, as quickly as it had begun, the threat vanished as the Belvedere passed beyond the darkened construction zone and out onto a fully illuminated stretch of freeway. Cordelia slowly regained her composure and began breathing at more regular intervals as she released her vice like grip on the steering wheel. Angel wiped his brow and glanced over at her.

"Fancy maneuvering," he said coolly. "What the hell was that?"

". . . a warning . . ." Cordelia answered quietly.

Angel suddenly jerked the car sharply down an exit ramp, drove across the freeway on an overpass and entered by an on ramp going in the opposite direction.

"Hey! What gives?" Cordelia called out. "My place is the other direction!"

Angel didn't reply but only glared straight ahead at the highway. He punched the accelerator hard, and the Belvedere GTX surged as if the eight cylinder muscle car relished Angel's heavy foot on the pedal. The black convertible roared headlong in the night down the virtually empty freeway.

"Oh no! You're not! Angel! Where are we going?" Cordelia shouted over the blare of the engine. It was a useless gesture since she already knew the answer.

" . . . Sunnydale . . ." he said grimly.

* * * * * *

Chapter 3 coming soon!


	3. The Shining Trapezohedron

**The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind**

**Chapter 3  
The Shining Trapezohedron  
  
**_by Gaius Petronius_

DISCLAIMER:  
Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB, Fox and Mutant Enemy, Inc. This story can be read on its own or as a sequel to H. P. Lovecraft's "The Haunter of the Dark" from which the Ancient Ones, the Shining Trapezohedron and the character of Robert Blake are derived. 

The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind is set roughly in mid-season four shortly following the death of Doyle but before the creation of Adam and the death of Maggie Walsh.

**Note: This section is rated PG-13 for a little racy scene.**

*** * * * * * ***

Anson MacDuffie glanced up and pondered his surroundings for a moment. His Sunnydale New Age Curiosity Shop was dingy and disorganized with stands of small apothecary bottles filled with herbs, extracts and essences lining the walls. Books lay scattered around in the shelves in no particular order. The countertop was cluttered with shoe boxes, each one filled with a variety of polished stones, crystals and other less identifiable objects. A large manual cash register took up a full one quarter of the countertop while across the room several glass cases held assorted estate jewelry and small wooden cigar boxes overflowing with tarnished old coins.

The shop was dimly lit with one small lamp on a desk in the back corner near a doorway that led to a storage room. On the desk next to the lamp sat his computer and monitor, an old clunky model that barely handled word processing and oftentimes ground to a halt dealing with the higher memory and processor speeds required for the Internet.

MacDuffie stood quietly by his desk holding the old sealed envelope in his hand. In his early fifties, tall with thinning brown hair, brown eyes and a dark mustache streaked with the first splashes of gray, he looked the epitome of a quiet, slightly eccentric dealer in the rare, the obscure and the just plain different.

He carefully sliced open the envelope with a pocket knife, and withdrew a multiple page letter. Slowly, he read by the dim light. His father's handwriting leaped off the page and the words echoed across the years in his mind.

"My dearest son, Anson,  
As you are now reading this, the time must have arrived and 'the Crystal' re-awakened. I felt it imprudent to burden you with this information before it became absolutely necessary, although I'm sure you have suspected the truth for many years. I now pass on to you the dire necessity as it was handed to me as a young man from old HP himself, our first and most powerful of the Guardians."

Anson MacDuffie lowered the paper briefly and glanced over his shoulder to the partly open door leading into the shop's storage room. From out of the dark inside, the faintest hint of light, pulsating with an unidentifiable color, shown against the ceiling of the shop and cast a splash of bizarre illumination across his face. Anson MacDuffie returned his attention to the letter.

"This is what you must confront. The object accompanying this letter is the 'Shining Trapezohedron' or so it was called by the Starry Wisdom Sect that inhabited the old Free Will Church in Providence. Other more ancient texts refer to it as "the Alexandrian Crystal." It is the gateway or more properly the link to the Void wherein the Ancient Ones now reside. When the sun and the planets of the solar system align along a single plane in our three dimensional sphere, the resulting gravitational and sub-atomic forces punch a wrinkle in our fragment of space/time. It is at this point that the Void and our world become near co-terminus."

"This is when the Ancient Ones can break free of their imprisonment. The first to cross will be their Messenger, the entity which prepares the way, Nyarlethotep, the god of air and blackness, reeking of the Void itself . . . the three lobed burning eye. The closeness of the two worlds in the weeks prior to the alignment allows It to roam with limited freedom. It listens everywhere. So it will search out the 'Crystal' and the 'Power' that will set both It and all the Ancient Ones fully free to devastate the world."

"The last alignment occurred in March, 1937. I arrived too late. Both Robert Blake and HP lost their lives in that struggle. Howard held Yogsothoth at bay long enough for the planetary conjunction to pass and Blake barely contained Nyarlethotep itself, casting It into the aether between our reality and the Void, the realm of dreams, nightmares and the unconscious. The next conjunction is projected for May 5th, 2000, and it is at that time that the Trapezohedron will re-awaken and it's pulsing energy once more summon Nyarlethotep."

"In the weeks prior, It will roam the earth seeking not only the Crystal, but the power of a Slayer as well. Harnessed and magnified, that elemental life force, directed against the fracture between the Void and our universe, will finally open the portal the Ancient Ones have so long sought."

Anson MacDuffie stopped reading. After a moment, he folded the pages of the letter together. Slowly, he walked over to the front window of the shop and stared out into the darkness shrouding the street. Nothing moved, no cars passed, the very night itself was still as if holding its breath, watching and waiting. After a moment, MacDuffie re-opened the letter and began reading once more.

"My son, from the day you were born, the weight of what you will confront has overhung my soul. As you read these words, I and all those of my generation that have fought this struggle will be long gone. In your hands, my dear Anson, all our hopes and fears, the successes and failures of all the Guardians, Watchers and Slayers, indeed the fate of the world now rests. What actions you take next will determine all that is yet to come, indeed the reality of the universe as we know it. My dearest son, this is what you must do . . ."

MacDuffie read on silently. With each passing moment, a stern resignation built across his face. He finally set the pages of the letter down on the counter and spoke quietly to himself with just the faintest hint of a Scottish accent.

". . . may the Gods preserve us . . ." he whispered as he stared at the seemingly harmless sheets of paper before him.

He turned and walked towards the open door of the store room. Inside, boxes and loose artifacts were stacked in the corners and all across the shelves which lined two walls of the room. In one corner on the floor sat a medium sized wooden crate with its lid removed and lying loose. The crate was packed with old excelsium and, nested in the middle of the packing material, was the Shining Trapezohedron. It glowed and its light pulsed, washing the storeroom in a soft but otherworldly iridescence.

Anson MacDuffie stepped inside the storeroom and stared fearfully at the glowing object. His mind pondering, he heard again the voice of his father from the pages of the letter.

". . . What actions you take next will determine all that is yet to come . . ."

The stern determination returned to his face. He quickly stepped back out into the shop and walked away from the storeroom, striding purposefully over to the store's counter. From the shelves behind the counter, he withdrew a small address book and thumbed the pages, all the while muttering to himself.

". . . Rupert Giles, Rupert Giles . . . where is that number. . . Giles . . ."

Finally his eyes lit on the telephone number he sought. He quickly committed it to memory and picked up the telephone receiver. He started to dial the number but halted before completing the first few numbers. His eyes widened as the words of his father moved swiftly in and out of his thoughts.

". . . It listens everywhere . . ."

Anson MacDuffie slowly returned the receiver to its cradle and stood motionless, like a chess player pondering his next move. He began gazing around the store until his eyes fell on the computer on the desk. He clenched his fist and whispered to himself as if he had just discovered the trap laid by his opponent and his own move with which to counter it.

". . . yes! . . ."

He quickly walked over to the desk, sat down and powered up the old computer. As the operating system finished booting up, his fingers flew across the keyboard. Now the quiet tapping on the keys was the only sound in the store.

* * * * * * *

At the same time, the lights were low in Xander's basement apartment and two people, hidden under the sheets and blankets, were entwined in each others arms in Xander's bed. For a few moments, only occasional moans and sighs drifted out from under the covers.

". . . mmmhh . . ."

". . . Xander . . .," Anya suddenly announced.

". . . hhhmmm? . . ."

". . . Xander . . . you know you really should do something about that 'thing.'"

The movement under the covers suddenly stopped.

"Huh?"

Anya, naked with only a sheet tangled around her body, suddenly sat up.

"That 'thing,'" she declared more insistently.

A naked Xander now sat up as well, and stared at her in disappointment.

"What 'thing?'" he asked, completely perplexed at the unexpected turn of events.

"The "Thing!" she snapped back, exasperated at his inability to follow her mental processes.

"Thing?"

Xander held his hands out at his sides and ran them over different parts of his anatomy as if he were examining himself for some kind of a growth or deformity.

"Not _that_ "thing!" Anya barked.

Xander's eyes widened as if his worst fears were confirmed.

"The 'thing' . . . in the cemetery!" she announced.

"Oh . . . " he stammered, "uh, ya know, Anya, we've had this discussion before. You remember how I've told you that when guys are like, . . . ya know, with girls . . . it's really hard to stop . . . in the middle. So like now, when . . ."

"It eats souls," Anya said, cutting him off as if she were oblivious to anything he had said.

"Huh?"

"And the light," she continued. "It can't stand any kind of light."

Trying to salvage some remaining shreds of the moment, Xander wrapped his arms around Anya and turned her head towards him. He kissed her lightly on the lips and ran his hand gently across her cheek. She stared back at him with a completely blank expression on her face.

"I've seen this before," she said as if she were making a financial presentation to a board of trustees. "It's going to destroy the world. We have to tell Giles. . . now."

Anya moved as if she is about to climb completely naked out of the bed and head for the telephone. Xander gently grabbed her by the shoulder to keep her from leaving.

"I just have one question," he sighed.

"Yes?"

"Here we are together," Xander snuggled up against Anya. "My naked body is right next to yours. We're about to partake in nature's closest union between a man and a woman. And at this deeply erotic and sensitive moment . . . you're thinking about . . . the 'thing?' . . . in the cemetery?"

"Yes!" Anya answered briskly.

"Why???? What brought that on?"

For a moment Anya stared at Xander. She was about to speak, as if her answer were the most obvious observation in the world, but Xander cut her off.

"Never mind! I don't want to know! Sorry I asked!"

Wrapped in the other end of the sheet, Xander swung his legs out of the bed, sat up and reached over to the bedside table. He picked up a small glass of cold water sitting there and slowly poured the chilly liquid over the top of his head.

"Hey! What did you do that for?!" Anya squalled.

"The cold water spigot in the shower's on the fritz," he replied dejectedly.

* * * * * *

Anson MacDuffie's fingers moved rapidly across the keyboard as he rushed to complete the e-mail. He finally stopped, quickly proof read the text on the monitor screen, then tapped the return key. He watched the monitor for a moment more, then sighed.

". . . fly, I pray . . . swiftly fly . . ." he whispered to the computer.

At the same time, as he stared at the monitor, the bizarre iridescence of the Shining Trapezohedron flickered from out of the storage room behind him.

* * * * * * *

Willow slouched at her dorm room desk in front of her computer but she was paying scant attention to the monitor. Every few moments, she tapped a key to advance a screen and then stared off into the room. She had been waiting for what seemed like hours for Buffy to return after the blow up in the cemetery. Finally she heard footsteps advancing down the hall towards the door. She perked up at the sound and a hopeful smile stretched across her face as Buffy entered.

". . . hi . . ." Willow said meekly.

"Hi," Buffy replied quietly. The Slayer struggled to remain cool and firm. After all, the Scoobies, largely at Willow's urging, had pretty much ruined her evening's patrol and any attempt to gather more information on the entity that was stalking her.

Buffy's willpower began to fail as she glanced at Willow sitting in front of her computer.

"Are you okay? Are we okay?" Willow asked.

It was all over after that. It was always Willow's smile that did it. Buffy couldn't stay angry after seeing that grin. Defeated, Buffy flopped on her bed and stared at the ceiling.

"Yeah. I'm not mad at you, Will," she said towards the ceiling. "Heck, you guys have been following me around trying to protect me for years. Nothing changes. 'Same MO,' as Riley says."

Reassured, Willow's grin broadened.

"Where'd you go?"

"Giles' place."

"Giles figure anything out?"

"Nah . . .," Buffy answered, a touch of worry in her voice. "This one's got even him stumped."

"What happened to Riley? I saw him finally go after you."

"I blew him off." Buffy sat up in the bed. "Told him I'd talk to him in the morning."

"You guys are still okay?"

"Yeah, but this is getting to be a real problem, him lurking around all the time." Buffy lay back on the comforters draped across her bed and complained partly to Willow and partly to the posters on the wall.

"I mean, I do _my_ stuff _my_ way but . . . this Initiative of his . . . all of sudden it's like there's dozens of Xanders running around blasting at anything that moves. Somebody's liable to get hurt!" Buffy tried not to smile at the image.

Willow smiled back.

"It's not funny, Willow!" Buffy said, struggling not to laugh herself.

Willow adopted a pseudo-serious scowl. With that, Buffy knew it was all over. Willow had won again.

"Don't be too hard on Riley," Willow said sweetly. "He really cares for you, and he's just doing what he's been trained to do."

"Which conflicts big time with what I've been trained to do," Buffy complained again to the posters.

"You guys'll work it out."

"I guess," Buffy answered but there wasn't the slightest bit of certainty in her reply.

"I'm just gonna finish cleaning out my e-mail and I'll turn everything off," Willow finally said as her attention returned to her computer

Buffy glanced at her bedside clock.

"Oh shit! It's like two a.m.! I gotta get some sleep! I got western civ at 8!"

Buffy sat up, dangled her legs over the side of her bed and sighed. She wanted to get ready for bed but Willow pecking at the keyboard distracted her. She watched as her roommate deleted e-mail after e-mail without even opening them.

". . . porno . . . " Willow said to herself in sing songy voice as she clicked on an offending e-mail and hit the delete button with a tap, ". . . porno . . . (click) . . . porno . . . (click) . . . save that one for tomorrow . . . (click) . . . porno . . . (click)."

Willow stared briefly at one file and shook her head in disgust.

"I wish Xander'd stop sending me those forwarded surveys. If I have to answer what kind of toothpaste or tampons I use one more time I'm gonna slip him an IM bomb!"

"Wow, you get a lot of mail!" Buffy remarked in awe as she watched Willow continue to delete e-mail after e-mail.

"Yeah, almost all of it's spamcrap," Willow said as she kept hitting the delete key, ". . . porno . . . (click) . . . porno . . . (click)"

"How did you end up getting all these porno come ons?"

"Remember that week I let Xander use my laptop to get on the net?"

"Oh, geez!" Buffy exclaimed, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah! Big mistake!" Willow said, still deleting files. ". . . porno . . . (click) . . . porno . . . (click)"

Suddenly Willow stopped and her face squinched up in a frown.

". . . that's funny . . ." she said to herself.

"What?" Buffy asked, her interest perked.

"I got an e-mail here from Mr. MacDuffie," Willow said as she studied the e-mail file.

"Who's that?" Buffy asked as she jumped up out of bed and stood looking over Willow's shoulder.

"The old guy that runs the New Age Magic Shop downtown where I get all my Wicca stuff. He's sorta neat, kinda like Giles only weirder."

Buffy almost laughed.

"That's a trick, weirder than Giles. What's he want?"

Puzzled, Willow was silent for a moment as she opened the e-file and began reading.

"It's a message for Giles," she said finally. "Mr. MacDuffie says here it's important,and I should get it to him right away. . . And not to use the phone?" Willow's eyebrows raised in a question.

"Yup!" Buffy nodded. "Definitely weirder than Giles."

Suddenly Willow was silent. As she read, her face dissolved into a look of panic and fear.

"Buffy, . . . you gotta read this," she said and her voice trembled.

"But you said it was for Giles."

"Buffy! Read it!" Willow said firmly, and the trademark grin was nowhere to be seen.

Buffy leaned further over Willow's shoulder as the two read the e-mail from MacDuffie. Their eyes widened with each paragraph. Finally Buffy stood back from the computer and stared straight ahead, her face an emotionless mask as if all of her vibrant young spirit suddenly had been drawn out of her. Willow looked back over her shoulder at her friend.

". . . oh, no . . ." she barely whispered as she shook her head.

". . . so . . ." Buffy said quietly as she stared across the room, "_that's_ what it is!"

"We gotta get this to Giles," Willow's voice quivered with the urgency both felt.

She reached over from her seat and turned on her printer. She tapped several keys, then hit the return key and waited patiently for the printout.

"Aw, man, Will! Another all-nighter!" Buffy exclaimed in despair.

"Well, at least you can sleep during western civ," Willow replied, shrugging her shoulders. "How many are in that lecture? Two hundred?"

"I gotta cut it. See there . . ." Buffy pointed at the screen as the printer quickly ran off the pages of the e-mail.

"See, it says right there, " Buffy continued, "He wants Giles to meet with him at eight a.m. tomorrow at the shop." She pointed at the text on the monitor, "'And bring the Slayer.'"

"At least you always get invited."

Buffy stepped around Willow and snatched the pages out of the printer tray.

"Okay, I'm outta here," she announced.

Willow jumped up from her desk to follow, switching off her printer in the same smooth motion.

"You're coming?" Buffy asked surprised.

"I can't sleep after reading that," Willow exclaimed, indicating the pages in Buffy's hand. "With this new info we're probably gonna have to go into super research mode. Besides," she grinned again, "I like tormenting Spike!"

Willow quickly hit the lights just before Buffy slammed the door. Their voices echoed down the hallway outside the dorm room as they headed for the stairwell.

"Xander said you beat Spike at strip poker!" Buffy chattered, the adrenalin now pumping again.

"Right down to his undies," Willow smirked. "Giles broke it up. I would've won, too. I had a flush!"

"You cheated didn't you!" Buffy exclaimed. "You used a spell to stack the deck!"

". . . So! . . . And you'll never guess what he wears!"

Willow whispered to Buffy.

"No! Get outta here! The ones with the frillies?!"

Buffy and Willow disappeared down the stairwell and their voices faded away. The hallway was silent. Then, slowly, a faint hint of red light glowed from the open crack where their dorm room door meets the floor. It steadily built in intensity until it shown like a beacon across the linoleum floor.

*** * * * * * * ***

Angel's black Belvedere GTX sat idling in front of the gateway to the old mansion in Sunnydale. Jersey barriers blocked off the driveway leading up to his old haunt. Construction and earth moving equipment was parked everywhere amidst what used to be the overgrown grounds. The mansion itself was now nothing more than a pile of rubble.

Nailed to a tree by the curb, a large wooden sign proclaimed to all driving by, "Another New 50 Lot Subdivision Of Quality Homes By Bushe Builders. Contact Sunnydale Realty For A Preview Of Model Homes Today!"

Behind the wheel, Angel stared blankly at the wreckage. At his side, Cordelia surveyed the mounds of rubble, the scattered test pits and orderly stacks of lumber ready to rise as framing for new construction the minute the sites were fully cleared and the foundations poured.

"My . . ." she remarked softly, "how things do change around here."

". . . Yeah . . ." Angel replied barely above a whisper. He felt empty and yet in pain from the lack of feeling the building's demise had stirred in him. So much had transpired here, so much of his life in Sunnydale, so much of that time with Buffy. And now the last vestiges of their life and love together lay in ruins before him, and he felt nothing. It was as if the pay loaders and bulldozers had carved out a portion of the very soul the gypsies had cursed him with. But instead of leaving the evil power of Angelus in its place, there was now only a vacuum akin to the deepest, darkest and loneliest reaches of outer space.

Cordelia could sense that this despair was greater than the usual aura of melancholy he carried around. "Angel . . . " she said as she placed her hand sympathetically on his arm, "you know it couldn't last forever."

"No kidding, . . ." he answered still gazing at the ruins. "But it does catch you off guard sometimes."

Cordelia stroked his arm gently. "I guess it does," she said with empathy. Angel turned to her and silently drank in her emotions. He had come to realize that Cordelia, contrary to her reputation from Sunnydale, actually had a big heart that she shared only rarely. This was one of those moments, and he deeply appreciated the gesture.

"Thanks," he said as he turned to her. She grinned in return, and her big brown eyes helped drive back the melancholy.

"No problem, Boss!" she announced now perky and all business. Angel could see that "the moment" was past for Cordelia. and it was time to think of the creature comforts. "So . . . where to now?" she continued. "We gotta have a place to stay."

"I don't know," Angel pondered, rubbing his chin. "Giles doesn't have any room at his apartment, and I don't think you'd really take a shine to the sewers."

"Hey! I have an idea, and it's just crazy enough that it might solve our problem!" she announced. Angel could tell immediately what was coming next. "It's called . . . a hotel! They rent rooms, there are TV's, restaurants, even swimming pools and saunas . . . the better ones anyway. We could put it on the expense account!"

"Cordelia, you've maxed out all the cards." Angel said trying not to sound critical.

"Oh . . . well we did need that copy machine! And the desk had to be the nice mahogany one. We're a new business and we have to impress the clients. I wasn't going to settle for that cheap pine . . ."

"Cordelia . . ." Angel interrupted. She paid no attention. Her mind was now in overdrive.

"Wait a minute. I know!" she exclaimed. "And it'll be perfect! We'll have our own rooms, all the comforts of home, and it won't cost a cent!

"What? Where?" Angel asked, now honestly puzzled.

Cordelia waggled her finger in a particular direction up the street.

"Just drive," she ordered.

Angel backed the Belvedere out of the driveway away from the wreckage of the old mansion and turned the car down the street where Cordelia was pointing.

Within a few minutes they were back within the confines of Sunnydale proper. Large homes lined the street on both sides as they cruised by in the dead of the night.

"Over there! Right there," Cordelia said as she pointed.

Angel pulled the Belvedere up in front of the walls of an estate. A large sign drilled into the stone and cement barricade read, "NOTICE OF FORECLOSURE. REAL ESTATE AND CONTENTS TO BE SOLD AT PUBLIC AUCTION." Angel and Cordelia stared through the locked iron gate at the spacious grounds beyond and the stately stucco house inside.

"This is _your_ old place . . ." Angel said with surprise.

"Yeah . . . Daddy lost it to the IRS. Some little thing about not paying taxes or anything . . . ever."

For a moment they were silent. Angel watched Cordelia as she continued to stare at the house.

"They took it all." she finally said quietly. "Even the furniture."

"So what are we doing here?"

Cordelia broke into a mischievous smile. She pulled a key chain with a set of keys out of her purse and jingled them in the air in front of him.

"Back gate and kitchen door key!" she said grinning.

The living room of the Chase mansion was a grand affair with high ceilings. Stately Queen Ann furniture, all of which had auction number tags dangling from them, were spaced tastefully around the room. Clearly meant for entertaining, the living room was large enough to host a sizable cocktail party. Against one wall stood a full marble fireplace. Over the mantelpiece placed at perfected spaced intervals sat a pair of candelabras and a half dozen porcelain figurines. All these were tagged as well. A very thin layer of dust had settled over the furniture. Cordelia and Angel entered tentatively via the swinging door from the kitchen and stopped by the fireplace.

"Wow, fancy place," Angel said, honestly impressed.

"Yeah, . . ." Cordelia answered hesitantly. "It was pretty neat living here." Suddenly she stopped and turned directly to Angel. Slowly, she smiled at the irony of her words.

"Funny, . . . you're the only guy I ever brought home."

Angel grinned sympathetically. Then, slowly, Cordelia walked around the living room, running her hand over the wings of the elaborately upholstered chairs. She stopped by one particular chair and was silent for a moment. When she finally did speak, it was as if Angel were not even in the room.

"When I was little," she said dreamily, "when I did something bad, Mom used to say, 'Just wait until your Father gets home!' Then Daddy'd come in, he'd sit here and put me on his knee . . . but instead of giving me a spanking . . . he'd tickle me."

Cordelia looked up at Angel and gave a little sigh.

"He said he never could bring himself to punish his little girl 'cause he knew I was really good and didn't mean to do all the bad things Mom said I did. It drove her crazy."

Cordelia was silent as she gazed at the empty chair.

"Cordelia, maybe staying here isn't such a good idea," Angel suggested.

"No, it's okay," she said with feigned casualness as she walked back towards the fireplace. "This is all the past. It's all happened already. It can't hurt me anymore. Mom's moved in with my aunt and uncle in San Francisco, and Daddy left just before the IRS seized everything."

"So you don't know where he is?" Angel asked.

Cordelia shook her head.

"He emptied the lock box and one of the bank accounts my Mom didn't know about. Funny, I got a postcard from him on my birthday. No address or anything. He didn't even sign it. It was postmarked somewhere in Mexico. Just written on the back, 'I do love you, sweetie.' I knew it was him."

Cordelia stood by the mantelpiece. She fingered each of the figurines and stopped at a glass snow globe. Inside, a pair of porcelain figures depicted Sleepy Beauty awakening from her slumber as Prince Charming leaned down to kiss her. Slowly Cordelia picked up the snow globe and turned it upside down to let the snow and star flakes float down over the figures inside. She gently twisted a wind up key on the bottom. A little music box inside began to play Tchaikovsky's waltz from Sleeping Beauty, "Once Upon a Dream." The lilting rhythm of the waltz seemed to hypnotize her as she studied the delicate figures amidst the cloud of drifty snowflakes.

"That's pretty," Angel said sensing Cordelia's emotions welling to the surface again.

"Yeah," she answered slowly. "Daddy gave it to me for my fifth birthday. Sleeping Beauty was my favorite movie when I was little. He always told me that one day my Prince Charming would come, wake me with a kiss and whisk me away to live happily ever after."

There was a long pause as Cordelia stared at the snow and sparkling star flakes floating in the glass globe. The music box tune tinkled sweetly in the dim light of the room. She fingered the auction tag hanging from the wind up key.

"Hhmm," she murmured. "Lot number 743."

Slowly and deliberately, Cordelia extended her hand holding the globe out to arm's length. She suddenly released the globe to fall to the stone fireplace hearth with a crash, smashing the figurines and splashing the water and snow inside all across the hearth. Although shattered, the music box defiantly continued to play the swaying waltz melody..

Angel stared at Cordelia in shock.

"I never really liked it anyway," she declared as she contemplated the shattered glass at her feet.

"Cordelia . . ."

"There's a bedroom at the end of the hall. Good night, Angel," she said coldly.

Angel stared at her briefly. Then, realizing that these were her ghosts and there was nothing more to do, he turned away without answering, crossed the living room and left by a long hallway. Alone, Cordelia still stared at the glass fragments at her feet. She then turned and walked over to her fathers's Queen Ann wing chair and dropped into the seat. With her hand on the side of her face, she leaned her head against one of the wings. A tear built up in the corner of her eye, ran down her cheek and as quickly as it appeared, vanished once more into the dark brown folds of her hair that spilled over her shoulder.

On the stones of the hearth, the waltz from the shattered music box played ever more slowly and slowly until it finally ceased in mid melody, leaving the dimly lit room in total silence.

* * * * * * *

Go To Part 4 


	4. The Preparer of the Way

**The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind**

**Chapter 4  
The Preparer of the Way  
  
**_by Gaius Petronius_

DISCLAIMER:  
Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB, Fox and Mutant Enemy, Inc. This story can be read on its own or as a sequel to H. P. Lovecraft's "The Haunter of the Dark" from which the Ancient Ones, the Shining Trapezohedron and the character of Robert Blake are derived. 

The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind is set roughly in mid-season four shortly following the death of Doyle but before the creation of Adam and the death of Maggie Walsh.

* * * * * * *

Giles' apartment was rarely this quiet with so many people scattered around its cramped living quarters. Giles himself puttered back and forth in the kitchenette preparing a pot of coffee. Briefly he glanced out the window over the sink as the first rays of sunrise played across the countertop. He half imagined that now, after everything he had gone through with his slayer over the last three years, he was stuck running the Sunnydale equivalent of a youth hostel.

Xander and Anya, both asleep, lay sprawled across the sofa, Xander sitting up and Anya stretched out with her head in his lap and her arms wrapped around his waist as if it were a pillow. A pile of open books lay scattered on the floor by the side of the sofa.

Buffy and Willow sat slumped down at the small dining room table near the serving window from the kitchenette, their faces plopped forward in their arms which were spread out over the open books on the table in front of them. Every so often, Willow gave a little snoring snort which caught Giles' attention and made him raise his eyebrows in surprise at the indelicate noise.

Spike, the only other one still awake, slouched in a chair directly in front of the television, his attention riveted to the action on the screen. Wearing a set of headphones, he never turned away for a moment from the All My Children tape running on the VCR.

"Aww come on, Edmund! Make yer move on the bird!" he muttered as Giles glanced at him from the kitchenette. "You know you want Alex so bad you can taste 'er!"

Giles brought two mugs of coffee out of the kitchenette and placed them on the table in front of the sleeping forms of Willow and Buffy. He returned to the coffee maker, collected two more mugs and set those on the coffee table next to Xander and Anya on the sofa. He then slowly walked over to the telephone on the front door stand, picked up the receiver and dialed. He listened briefly as the call went through.

Good morning," he said quietly so as not to disturb the others. "This is Rupert Giles. . . . Yes, that's correct. . . . I'd like to come over shortly and bring a visitor. . . . You'll have her up and ready? Good. I deeply appreciate your assistance. . . . Thank you, we'll be there within the hour."

Giles gently returned the receiver to its cradle and stood motionless in a shaft of morning sunlight that poured in through the front window. He ran his hand across his face and rubbed the skin as if he were still half asleep, trying to massage some degree of wakefulness into his exhausted frame. He took a deep breath as he stared out the window at what appeared to be any ordinary day in Sunnydale.

At the table near the kitchenette, Willow began to stir. The strong smell of the coffee hit her nostrils which twitched slightly as she groaned, sat up and stretched.

"Mmm, oh man, that smells good," she said, still groggy.

Willow bent forward and took a sip from the cup but puckered her lips and made a face at the bitter taste of the black coffee.

"Uuugghh!"

"Cream and sugar?" Giles suggested gently from across the room.

"Yes, please."

Giles returned to the kitchenette, retrieved a creamer and sugar bowl and placed them on the table in front of Willow and Buffy. Suddenly the phone rang, its sharp piercing clatter causing Buffy to sit up sharply, alert but still groggy with sleep. She quickly looked around the table but was reassured by the familiar surroundings. As Giles picked up the phone, Buffy nestled her head back in her folded arms on the table.

"Good morning," Willow said to Buffy as she sipped her coffee.

"Hello?" Giles answered the phone. "Angel? . . . What's happened?"

Buffy's head suddenly popped up, and Willow stared at Giles apprehensively.

". . . oh good lord! " Giles exclaimed as he realized at the same time that both Buffy and Willow were listening to the conversation intently. "You're both all right? " he continued. "Where are you now? . . . No, no, no, stay put! We've had some developments on this end as well. We'll have a better handle on the situation later this morning."

Buffy and Willow stared in astonishment at each other. Anya began to stir in Xander's lap. She poked him playfully in the side causing him to sit bolt upright, nearly pitching her off the sofa onto the floor.

Giles turned away from the others and tried to lower his voice.

"She's fine," he said in hushed tones into the receiver. "She's right here with Willow, Xander and Anya. . . . Angel! Stay put! We'll be all right! . . . I know this thing is horribly dangerous, and it's even more serious than you could possibly know! "

Anya sat up while Xander shook the butterflies out of his head. Willow and Buffy couldn't break their frightened gaze at Giles.

"Angel, I've received a communication . . . from a Guardian!" Giles continued with growing agitation. "I know they're only supposed to be legendary, but the code words are all there! . . . Well it looks like The Powers That Be are facing something a tad more than even they can handle!"

All the while, Spike's attention was riveted to the soap opera playing on the VCR.

"Ohhh come on Alex, give 'im a little candy! He's only yer dead husband's brother!"

"As far as I can tell . . . it's an Ancient One!" Giles' words sent chills down Buffy's spine. She wasn't exactly sure what it was but the tone of Giles' voice was so ominous she couldn't help but shiver.

"It's the Messenger and preparer of the way, Nyarlethotep . . . you know what that means! Right, we're meeting shortly so I'll call you as soon as we know more . . . and stay put! . . . yes . . . I'll tell her."

Giles hung up and turned around to face Buffy, Willow, Xander and Anya.

"Oh, good morning! Glad to see you're all up," he said putting on a cheery smile.

"Giles!" Buffy growled.

"The phone call? Oh, that was just Angel. He's here in Sunnydale. He says 'hello,'" Giles answered as he desperately struggled to maintain the phoney grin.

"GILES!" Buffy now snarled through gritted teeth, barely able to contain her fury.

Giles looked down at the floor briefly, then back up at Buffy. His face broadened into a full smile that even he imagined must have been nauseous to look upon.

"More coffee?" he said to Willow and Buffy.

A half hour later, Giles' Citroen with him at the wheel, drove down the streets of Sunnydale through the light early morning traffic. Buffy was the only passenger. For a few moments, she stared straight ahead out the windshield and was virtually oblivious to the world of Sunnydale passing by the car. Finally, she turned to look at Giles.

"So . . . you still won't tell me where we're going?" she said coolly.

"We'll be there shortly," was his dry response.

". . . Or why you're taking only me?"

"We'll catch up with the others at MacDuffie's shop," he said trying not to reveal any of the emotions or fears that he was sure would alarm his slayer. "But we have to make this stop first."

Both were silent for a few moments more.

"Giles . . . I don't like surprises."

"I know. But this was the only way I could get you to come."

He paused, then began speaking again.

"This entity of yours, it first appeared about a week ago?"

Buffy was puzzled by the obvious question.

"Yeah, you know that. What gives?" she replied.

"Well, something else also occurred at about the same time," Giles continued as he took a deep breath and turned the steering wheel sharply as they rounded a corner. "I've waited this long so as to be sure. You and I both know there are no coincidences in this business."

"What was it?"

"Ah, here we are," Giles said, ignoring her question.

Giles steered the Citroen into a large circular driveway that led up to a sprawling one floor building. As the car approached the building entrance, Buffy read an ornate sign on the front lawn, "SUNNYDALE CONVALESCENT HOSPITAL." She turned to Giles, her face a mask of confusion.

"What the hell are we doing here?" she asked. She could feel the same chill running up her spine that she experienced when she first heard Giles mention the Ancient Ones.

Giles stared straight ahead and didn't answer.

* * * * * * *

Go To Part 5 


	5. The Forgotten Place

**The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind**

**Chapter 5  
The Forgotten Place  
  
**_by Gaius Petronius_

DISCLAIMER:  
Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB, Fox and Mutant Enemy, Inc. This story can be read on its own or as a sequel to H. P. Lovecraft's "The Haunter of the Dark" from which the Ancient Ones, the Shining Trapezohedron and the character of Robert Blake are derived. 

The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind is set roughly in mid-season four shortly following the death of Doyle but before the creation of Adam and the death of Maggie Walsh.

* * * * * * *

A nurse doubling as a receptionist stood behind the dark brown wooden receptionist desk in the Sunnydale Convalescent Hospital. She was preoccupied checking charts, shuffling paperwork, and at the same time watching seven patients, all in wheelchairs clustered around in the lobby. Five of those patients were women, elderly, and suffering from the later stages of Parkinson's or Alzheimer's disease. Each of their hands shook uncontrollably to various degrees and their eyes appeared glazed over. Their mouths were all frozen in a downward frown over which they had no control. Two swayed gently in their wheelchairs, the rthymn of their movments somehow a comfort in a world deprived of almost all sensory stimulus.

The two other patients were young, in their twenties, and appeared rigid in their wheelchairs, their necks supported by braces. Each stared straight ahead. One drooled uncontrollably.

The building itself, although freshly repainted inside and partially refurbished, nonetheless was obviously over thirty years old. Remnants of the original dark wood trim around the doorways gave the corridors a cramped feeling.

Buffy and Giles walked through the front entrance and up to the receptionist's desk. She had never been in a convalescent hospital before, and her eyes were wide with horror at the condition of the patients in the lobby.

"Good morning. Rupert Giles," Giles said quietly to the nurse.

"Oh, yes," she replied, still considerably distracted by the mounds of papers and charts before her. "You called earlier. Down the hallway and to your left. Room 38. Do you need help?"

"No, that's all right. I've been here before," was Giles' cryptic answer.

Giles turned away from the desk and began walking down the hallway. Buffy followed nervously. She stared at an elderly woman patient leaning on a walker in the hallway. The old woman muttered to herself as she swayed slightly within the confines of the walker.

". . . hello . . . hello . . . hello . . ." the old woman whispered to the bare walls next to her.

Giles and Buffy passed several rooms where the doors were open. Over the doorway of one, a small temporary sign warned, "No smoking. Oxygen in use." Buffy glanced inside. Lying in bed was another elderly woman. Her eyes were closed, her mouth open, and an oxygen breather attached to her nose. From the stiff contorted appearance of the patient's limbs, Buffy imagined for a moment that she must be a corpse except for the tell tale sign of her rising and falling chest.

Shaking slightly, Buffy turned away from the room and, as she followed Giles, didn't dare look through any of the other open doors.

"Giles, . . . why are we here?" she whispered, and Giles could sense a fear in her voice he had never heard before.

Suddenly a scream reverberated from a room down one of the other corridors branching off from where Buffy and Giles were passing. Buffy jumped and spun around in the direction of the noise. At first, the sound was loud and sharply piercing, but then trailed off in a long agonizing wail that finally dissolved into a quiet weeping moan.

Buffy stopped, her feet frozen to the spot in the hallway. Giles turned and stared back at her.

"Buffy . . ." he said calmly.

"No . . ." she whimpered, and her trembling was noticeable.

Giles retraced his steps, returning to her side and looked directly into her eyes.

"Giles . . . this place . . ." she whispered in terror, "It's Hell . . . everyone here . . . they're all alive but they're in Hell!"

Giles still stared firmly into her eyes.

"I always knew in my head this place existed. . . ." she continued, "And I could almost imagine what went on here but . . ."

"Seeing it now, you understand," he said softly.

Buffy nodded.

"Good," he said. "Now, never forget. For this is worse than Hell. It's the forgotten place."

Giles looked around him down the hallway. Another scream, similar to the first, erupted from the other corridor. It too dissolved into a wail of despair for a few moments and then died away.

"Unlike Hell, these souls are here through no fault of their own," he said and Buffy could see the pain in his face as he spoke. "Diseases of aging, Parkinson's, Alzheimers; diseases of youth, multiple sclerosis, spinal injuries," here Giles hesitated before proceeding.

". . . brain damage . . ." he said ominously.

Buffy suddenly stared up at her Watcher. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open as she barely whispered the words.

". . . oh God . . . Giles, no . . . no!"

Giles didn't answer.

". . . she's here? . . ." Buffy whispered, her voice trembling.

Still Giles didn't respond. He only stared sternly at Buffy.

"Giles, how could you have brought me here!?" she cried out.

"Buffy, something has happened," Giles said firmly as he struggled to control his own emotions. "She's been at Sunnydale Convalescent since early summer with no improvement. In fact, her condition has deteriorated over the past several months . . . until last week. Since then, there has been a marked change, on the surface it would appear for the better but . . . there's something wrong. It's as if she were rallying her last remaining sources of strength . . . trying to communicate."

"Giles, I don't understand . . ."

"I've been coming here several times a week since they moved her over from the hospital," he continued. "I sit with her and talk to her. She hasn't been able to move or speak. I have no idea whether she understands, but the doctor says there's a good chance she can hear, just not respond."

Buffy listened intently, half in fear, half with morbid curiosity.

"Then" Giles said ". . . the morning after you first saw the entity, I was getting ready to leave and I patted her hand goodbye . . . she grasped mine . . . and squeezed it . . ."

Buffy's eyes widened.

"She's done it several times since and then yesterday . . . she finally spoke."

"What did she say?" Buffy asked fearfully.

"Two words . . ." he replied. "'get 'B!'"

Giles turned away from Buffy and resumed walking down the hallway. He halted after a few steps, turned and glanced back over his shoulder at her.

"You coming? he said to Buffy.

Buffy nodded and caught up with Giles. Both walked down the hallway together. Another scream echoed from a nearby corridor, but this time Buffy didn't flinch. She stared straight ahead, the steely expression on her face never faltering, as the scream faded into a wail and then died away. Together side by side, Giles and the Slayer walked down the convalescent hospital hallway. Their footsteps clipped loudly on the sterile linoleum floor.

Finally, they reached the end of the corridor, turned left down an adjoining hallway and stopped by the entrance to a room. Buffy read the number on the half open doorway.

". . . thirty-eight . . ." she said quietly and looked at Giles for reassurance.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

". . . yeah . . ." she said nodding.

Both entered the room with Giles leading the way.

Buffy and Giles halted just inside the room. Against the right wall were two freshly made up beds, both empty. Straight ahead on the outside wall was a large picture window looking out onto the grounds of the hospital. By the side of the window, a young woman sat in a metal folding chair and stared out. She was dressed in a hospital night gown and simple slippers. She had her back to Giles and Buffy as they entered but her long poker straight black hair, even without its once luxurious shine was unmistakable. Faith stared silent and unmoving out the window at the morning sunshine.

"Knock, knock . . ." Giles announced before fully entering the room.

Faith didn't move. Giles and Buffy approached slowly so as not to startle her.

"Faith . . . it's Giles. I've come back . . . and I've brought someone." He turned to Buffy, encouraging her to approach. "Go ahead," he said to her.

Buffy stepped up towards Faith.

". . . Hi . . . " she said hesitantly. "It's me, Buffy. . . . Giles says you're doing real good . . . that you wanted to talk to me . . ."

Faith remained motionless and silent. Buffy drew closer and stepped around in front of the chair to face Faith.

"I didn't know you were here . . . otherwise I would have . . ."

Buffy suddenly froze in mid sentence and gasped at the image of horror before her. Faith stared straight ahead, her face an expressionless mask, unmoving and unresponsive to Giles and Buffy's presence. But what startled Buffy were the dark circles around Faith's eyes and the fallen Slayer's pupils. Where formerly Faith had rich brown eyes that laughed with a love for life, now in their place were a pair of flaming red points floating in the white surrounding eye tissue.

Slowly, Faith turned her head to look up at Buffy. Buffy wanted to turn away, to run, to somehow find a means to avoid the piercing horror of those eyes but she couldn't. And then Faith spoke, her voice almost echoing with a hollow, disembodied tone like an entity without a soul.

". . . and . . . who . . . are . . . you . . ." she said slowly as if the words had no meaning.

". . . Giles! . . ." Buffy cried out, the terror threatening to overwhelm her.

"Speak to her," Giles said gently.

Buffy struggled to control her short circuiting emotions. She calmed her breathing, and managed to look at Faith once more.

"Faith? . . . Can you see me?"

At first, Faith only stared blankly at Buffy. Then slowly she reached out to Buffy, took her hand and drew it back towards herself. Faith then folded Buffy's fingers into the shape of a clenched fist. She drew Buffy's fist against her abdomen and wrapped her own hands around the fist as if she were trying to fend off Buffy's hand.

Faith suddenly gasped in deeply and her red eyes rolled up towards the ceiling. Buffy yanked her hand back in shock. As she did, Faith covered the spot on her abdomen with one hand where Buffy's fist had lain moments before. Her other hand she held out, palm up and open, in front of her and slowly she gazed at it as if it were coated in an invisible substance. Buffy recoiled in horror as she realized what Faith was doing. Jumping away, she backed up towards Giles.

"Oh God! Giles, she's reliving . . . !"

Giles put his hands on Buffy's shoulders reassuringly.

"Easy. easy," he said urgently, "I think she's coming out of it again!"

Regaining her composure, Buffy stepped in front of Faith once more. As if gazing across a vast and fathomless void, the two Slayers stared at one another. Then suddenly, like a brief moment when the sun slips out from behind a layer of clouds, the blank expression on Faith's face slid away. A sparkle built in her eyes and her mouth curled in her smirking grin. She nodded in recognition at Buffy.

". . . hey . . . 'B' . . ."

"Faith?" Buffy whispered.

For a moment Faith grinned, then, like the shadow of the clouds returning, the smirk evaporated from her face. Her eyes widened and a look crossed her face that could only have been despair. Sensing that Faith was drifting away again, Buffy knelt down beside her and took her hands in hers.

"Faith? . . . Faith?! . . . What is it?! What did you want to tell me?!"

The blank expression descended across Faith, but before it completely overwhelmed her, Faith muttered one last word.

". . . help . . ." she murmured in a frightened whisper.

Suddenly Faith toppled forward out of the chair and collapsed into Buffy's arms. Buffy caught her as the fallen slayer buried her face in Buffy's shoulder.

". . . and . . . who . . . are . . . you . . ." Faith whispered haltingly into Buffy's long blond hair.

"Giles!"

Giles stepped forward and swept Faith up in his arms. Quickly he placed her in the nearest bed.

"Buffy, get one of the nurses!"

Buffy jumped to her feet and ran out of the room. Giles gently laid Faith down on the bed. With his hand he tenderly brushed the strands of long black hair out of her face. Faith stared out into the room, her expression giving no clue she understood what was happening. Giles held up her arm by the wrist and took her pulse, but before he could finish his count, Faith's hand swung out of his grasp and clasped his palm. She squeezed his hand firmly and then slowly released it. Her arm dropped unmoving onto the bed covers.

"I understand. Don't give up. We'll find a way," he whispered to her.

Moments later Buffy returned leading a pair of nurses who immediately moved to either side of the bed.

"Her pulse seems strong," Giles said to the nearest nurse.

"I think it's best you leave now," the nurse replied. "We'll take care of her. I'll call you if there's any change."

Giles turned to leave but Buffy held back. She stepped up beside the bed, leaned down and spoke quietly in Faith's ear.

"Hang in there. I'll be back." Faith gave no indication she heard or understood what Buffy had said. Buffy waited a moment more but when no response was forthcoming, she rejoined Giles at the door and together they left the room.

In the hallway, Giles was several steps ahead of Buffy. She ran to catch up with him.

"Giles!" she called out.

He wouldn't turn to answer. Buffy grabbed him by the arm and forced him to face her.

"Giles! What the hell is going on?!"

"Buffy . . . Faith is dying."

For a second, Buffy couldn't believe what she had just heard.

"No!" she protested. "She almost came out of it just now! She can't be . . ." Giles held up his hand to interrupt her.

Buffy," he said ominously, "Something is sapping her strength and the doctors can't identify it. The red eyes, that appeared a week ago. They say it could be some hemorrhaging behind her pupils but . . . The hospital has run a series of CAT scans on her but besides the brain damage from . . . your encounter last spring, they can't find anything."

"I don't get it. What's happening to her?"

Giles walked away from Buffy and stopped by a large window in the hallway. He stared out into the morning sunshine and ran his fingers through his hair. Inside, he battled to keep his emotions in check as he tried to explain as clinically as possible to Buffy what was happening to Faith.

"Buffy," he said slowly, "The damage to Faith's mind, particularly that part of her brain that retrieves memory, has been massive. The synapses, the nerve pathways are shattered. Her brain is desperately trying to compensate, find other neural routes around the damaged nerve tissues, but . . . well, I'm afraid it's rapidly becoming a losing battle."

Buffy couldn't understand. Faith was a Slayer. Her body was strong. Inspite of the hideous damage she had inflicted on Faith months before, she couldn't imagine at this point that Faith was going to lose her battle for life.

"But Giles . . . I know she recognizes me!" Buffy argued back, "Well sort of. I could see it in her eyes, she's trying to put things together!"

"That's true," he answered, still maintaining his cool rational tone of voice in spite of the emotions he struggled with. "She has the Slayer's metabolism and her brain won't surrender without a struggle. Every once in a while, she'll manage to construct a new neural pathway and that accounts for those occasional moments when she is lucid but . . . I'm sorry, Buffy, they seem to collapse as quickly as her mind can set them up."

"Giles . . . " she asked quietly as she stumbled over her own words trying to formulate her question. "Is Faith . . . is she still. . . in there?"

"I don't know," Giles spoke as gently as possible. "The ancient physicians had a way of describing it. They were as powerless to deal with brain damage as we are. I remember reading in Hermocrates that in cases like Faith's, it's as if a wall has been laid down across the mind . . . and behind it lies what remains of the soul, a lost wind, whirling, ever searching for a way from beyond the barrier that contains it."

Buffy's eyes glistened, and she bit her lip as she listened to Giles.

"Sometimes that wind rages and thunders," he continued. "Other times it falls to its knees and, in lonely despair, weeps quietly against the walls of its prison. Then slowly, eventually with the passing of time, . . . that wind fades away . . . until it finally vanishes forever."

Buffy stared at the floor. Slowly, she wiped one eye with the sleeve of her blouse.

After a few minutes, the nurses left Faith's room. Faith lay alone in her bed and stared out at nothing, her face a blank mask as the sheet over her rose and fell with her steady breathing. She barely spoke in a whisper.

". . . and . . . who . . . are . . . you . . ." her souless voice asked the empty room.

Slowly, she closed her blood red eyes as she repeated the same words over and over until they finally drifted away into silence.

". . . and . . . who . . . are . . . you . . ."

*** * * * * * ***

**Go To Part 6**


	6. The Guardian

**The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind**

**Chapter 6  
The Guardian  
  
**_by Gaius Petronius_

DISCLAIMER:  
Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB, Fox and Mutant Enemy, Inc. This story can be read on its own or as a sequel to H. P. Lovecraft's "The Haunter of the Dark" from which the Ancient Ones, the Shining Trapezohedron and the character of Robert Blake are derived.

The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind is set roughly in mid-season four shortly following the death of Doyle but before the creation of Adam and the death of Maggie Walsh.

*** * * * * ***

The following morning the office of Angel Investigations was quiet, the stillness marred only by the occasional distant honking of horns outside on the street. Wesley sat asleep in Cordelia's receptionist's chair. He was plopped forward onto the desk and he snoozed with his face buried in his folded arms. His glasses lay loose out on the table in front of him. He fidgeted in his sleep, snorted and twitched with a nightmare.

Lieutenant Kate Lockley, detective in the Los Angeles Police Department, stood silently in front of the desk, her arms folded in disgust. She glared down at Wesley for a few moments. Her long blond hair spilled over her shoulders and its brilliant color stood out like a beacon in the dingy office. She wore tight fitting jeans and a snug blouse that accentuated the full lines of her figure. Her service revolver, strapped in a shoulder holster across her chest, stood out prominently under her brown leather jacket. Impatiently, she gave Wesley a sharp prod.

"Hey! Wake up!" she snapped curtly at him.

Still half asleep, Wesley jumped and whimpered.

"Oh! . . . I'm sorry, Mummy, I couldn't help it! I'll change the sheets and wash them . . ."

"HEY!" Kate shouted.

"Oh dear," Wesley sputtered, finally awake, and realized where he was. "You're that policewoman, Kate."

"Who are you? Where's Angel?" Kate asked, what little patience she had now wearing extremely thin.

Wesley fidgeted with his glasses and puffed himself up, trying to look important and even threatening.

"I am Wesley Windom Price," he announced pompously, "Rogue Demon Hunter!"

Kate eyed Wesley as if he had just announced he was from Mars.

"What the hell's a 'Rogue Demon?'" she asked sarcastically, "Where's Angel . . . and that secretary of his?"

Wesley struggled to regain his composure.

"I'm sorry but Angel is out of the office right now. If you would like to leave a message . . ."

"Where is he?" Kate interrupted, now speaking through gritted teeth.

Then Wesley made his biggest mistake. He got snippy.

"And why should I reveal that information to you? He hasn't done anything."

"Not done anything?!" That was it. She decided the Demon Hunter needed a learning experience. She let her infamous temper, never too far below the surface, well freely out.

"No, we've only got reports of a '67 GTX matching the description of Angel's speeding down the freeway in the middle of the night with the occupants throwing Molotov cocktails at passing vehicles!!"

Wesley's eyes bugged out as Kate bent down and grabbed him by the lapels of his rumpled tweed sport jacket.

"So listen up you dopey little man with your coke bottle lenses!" she growled, her voice dripping with her best "bad cop" threatening tone. "Where's Angel?"

"I don't know . . ." Wesley stammered as he began to cave, "He left to drive Cordelia home last night and never came back." Suddenly, Wesley's natural huffiness returned. "Besides! I can't reveal that information to you! It's confidential!"

Suddenly the phone rang causing Wesley to nearly leap up out of the chair. He pulled away from Kate and picked up the receiver. Miraculously, he punched the correct button for the incoming line.

"Angel Investigations, 'We help the hopeless, how may we . . ." Wesley stopped as the voice on the other end of the line interrupted him. " . . . Angel!" he exclaimed, "That's you? It doesn't sound like you . . . You're where? . . . Sunnydale? . . ."

Kate listened carefully, picking out all the information she needed within a few seconds and grinning all the while.

". . . You're at Cordelia's old house?" Wesley sputtered, "But I thought the IRS seized it from her father. . . . Oh, . . . well you should have checked in earlier. You had me worried."

Wesley listened over the phone for a moment, all the while glaring suspiciously at Kate.

"No, everything's been quiet," he continued, "That Kate woman's here looking for you, but don't worry. She won't get any information out of me! . . . Right . . . I'll take messages."

Wesley hung up the phone and gave Kate his best "Rogue Demon Hunter" stare.

"There! You see, Angel's not here," he declared at the same time waving his hand dismissively at the policewoman, "Now you'd best 'shoo' and be on your way!"

Kate struggled not to burst out laughing. She couldn't resist one more question.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," she answered, grinning all the while, "Oh, about your secretary Cordelia. Is her father the Chase guy up in Sunnydale that got busted by the IRS and skipped town?"

Wesley's mouth almost dropped open. He couldn't believe she had asked such a personal and intrusive question. No one with any breeding discussed other peoples' personal finances.

"I don't think Cordelia's family financial difficulties are any of your concern!" he snapped.

"Right," Kate smiled as she was about to turn and leave. She hadn't had this much fun on an interrogation in weeks. One last dig should be good for laughs. "Thanks. Ya know what, Wesley Windom Price 'Rogue Demon Hunter?'"

Kate bent down and reached out towards Wesley. Expecting another lunge for his collar, he lurched back from her extended hand but instead, Kate playfully patted Wesley twice on the cheek, grinning sarcastically as she did.

"You're okay," she smirked, with her face a little too close in to his for comfort.

Kate then stood up to her full height, straightened her shoulder holster and walked away as a flabbergasted Wesley stared after her. As she passed out the office door she muttered to herself under her breath.

"'Rogue Demon Hunter!' Christ, Angel! Where the hell do you dig 'em up!"

*** * * * * * * ***

Professor Margaret Walsh stood in front of a computer monitor on the main floor of the Initiative Headquarters. She and Hunter, a lab coated assistant, stared at the screen and evaluated information scrolling by. All around them, workers, camouflaged Initiative soldiers and lab technicians scurred to and fro. Although from all appearances it was a "normal" morning at the secret underground operation, the headquarters reeked with an air of building tension.

Initiative members cast furtive glances over their shoulders as they hurried about their business. No one spoke or dared break Walsh's concentration for fear of a verbal lashing. Hunter waited patiently. A relatively new recruit, he had been in training under Riley Finn. He had been the butt of constant jokes for his short size although his wirey frame was as strong as any of the larger soldiers and Riley noticed his natural ability with strategic planning.

Then Professor Walsh without explanation pulled him out of the unit. Apparently she had spotted in his file his skill with computers, electronic equipment and programming code. Although, he realized that he was advancing within the Initiative structure, he also understood, due to his patron's volatility, that the position was precarious at best. He also knew how to keep his mouth shut. Nervously, he ran his hand through his short curly brown hair as he waited for Walsh to comment on the outrageous sensor readings now running across the monitor screen.

Suddenly, a young technician holding a clipboard walked up and stood behind Professor Walsh.

"Ma'am?" he asked tentatively.

Walsh, her face hard and cold as if she were annoyed beyond endurance by the interruption, looked up at the technician. She didn't reply.

"The alpha charged weaponry packs are on the loading dock," the technician continued, "We need your authorization to remove them from their protective lead packing."

Walsh quickly signed the clipboard, gave the technician a stare that could crack granite and returned her attention to the screen.

"I see our bogey was active again last night . . ." she finally mused. Hunter wondered whether the remark was directed at him or the bare white walls.

"Yes, we've isolated its movements to three grids," he volunteered, "The first is block M561." Hunter pointed at the screen.

"This dormitory on the college campus. The second, block E375," he said pointing to another grid, "an older area of downtown Sunnydale and here . . . B234."

"What's the large building in that grid?" Walsh asked with interest.

"Apparently it's the Sunnydale Convalescent Hospital."

"What about M56?" Walsh continued.

Hunter was puzzled by this last location.

"It's mostly old shops and several abandoned buildings. It's the part of town targeted for revitalization."

"There's a link there somewhere," Walsh said as if the observation were a command.

"Ma'am?"

"Those three sites have attracted its attention," she declared analytically, "This is not some random hostile or irrational subterrestrial demon we're dealing with. This entity manifests intelligence and moves with a purpose. I want to know what it is. If we find the link between the three sites, we'll know it's objective."

"Yes, Ma'am," Hunter said, preparing himself for the barage of orders he knew was to follow in the next several seconds. Professor Walsh was highly predictable that way and Hunter wasn't disappointed.

"I want a list of all the students living in grid M561," she snapped, "I also want an inventory of all the shops, employees and property owners in E375 and the names of all the employees and patients in B234. Understood?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

Professor Walsh suddenly looked around her at the flurry of activity on the main floor of the Initiative. Hunter could tell she wanted more information, anything to further the development of "The Project" that she always referred to cryptically. Hunter didn't know and didn't want to know what that was.

"Have our patrols made any further contact?"

"Agent Riley had an encounter last night. His report's in your office."

"Good . . ." she muttered to herself as she turned back to the monitor, ". . . I want this thing . . . It's getting stronger every night. We're going to capture it . . ."

Hunter knew he shouldn't open his mouth, but keep his observations to himself if he wanted to progress any further in the Initiative hierachy. But he had to speak up. It was the sensor readings on the screen from last night's outbreak of "hot spots" around Sunnydale.

"Excuse me, Ma'am," he said hesitantly, "but those infra red readings are almost off the scale right now." He knew as he finished the sentence that it was a mistake but there was no backing out now.

"I can read the data, Mister," Walsh growled through her teeth.

Hunter knew he was treading on dangerous ground but the guys in the units needed some voice of rationality behind the scenes. Someone had to look out for them. Screwing up his courage, he pointed out the completely obvious conclusion from the data appearing on the monitors in front of them.

"Well, with the teams going up against those kind of energy levels, we're not certain how effective . . . I mean we don't know whether the new alpha particle packs will have the punch to knock this . . . 'thing' . . . down."

"Well then your munitions people better make sure they have that capability, don't you think?" Walsh answered with ice in her voice.

"Yes, Ma'am," Hunter said, standing down from what he understood Walsh interpreted as a challenge to her unquestioned authority. Actually, he thought he got off easy and maybe even pushed the point through. She didn't bust him immediately to shoveling out demon cages in the detention wing.

"Now get on those lists," she snapped, "I want that information within the hour."

"Right away, Ma'am," he said as he scurried away, glad he had survived yet another encounter.

Professor Walsh, her face almost twitching with suppressed excitement, stared at the computer screen. Why was it, she thought as she shook her head, that no one else understood the data they had been accumulating over the past week.

"All that raw power . . . " she muttered to herself in envious admiration of the unknown entity that was creating it, "to control it . . . harness it for 'the Project.'"

Walsh shook her head at the same time grinning through gritted teeth.

"If I can just combine the near invulnerability of the hostiles, the durability of the subterrestrials and the energy output of my little 'bogey' here . . . I'll create an army of fighting machines unimagined in the annals of military history!"

*** * * * * ***

Anson MacDuffie relaxed by his desk in his New Age Curiosity. By now the midmorning sun was illuminating the darkest recesses of the cramped and cluttered store. He turned around in a swivel chair, so that he faced the rest of the office. He held a cup of hot tea and admired the others in the room busily wandering from case to case and studying everything scattered about on the dusty shelves. Willow, Xander and Anya, each with their own cups, were busy examining all the cabinets filled with ancient and arcane objects. Every so often, Anya casts a nervous glance over at MacDuffie.

"More peppermint tea?" MacDuffie said to Willow.

"Yes, please," she grinned back.

Willow walked over to MacDuffie's desk. Carefully, he poured her a little more tea from a small porcelain pot steeping on a hot plate.

"Thank you."

"You know, with that tummy, you really should give up the coffee," he offered.

"Yeah, I know but sometimes I gotta be awake for class," Willow said trying to be perky after the all night research. Besides, we were over at Giles' all night."

"I'll take the matter up with Mr. Giles," MacDuffie answered grinning, "He knows better. Oh and your freshly picked chamomile will be in this afternoon."

"Thanks," Willow said as she sipped her tea. She gazed across the shop at Anya and Xander who were staring at a particular case. She wandered over to join them and find out what had their attention.

"Those are really beautiful amulets," she said, half to herself and half to the others.

"Yes," MacDuffie answered, "the lapis lazuli was highly prized by the Egyptians. They used it where especially powerful protective charms were needed."

Anya crinkled her nose and sniffed.

"Those things wouldn't stop a demon," she announced as she pointed at one set in particular, "That one would have barely made me sneeze. And that one . . ."

Anya suddenly fell silent as she studied a particular amulet. Without warning, she stepped back quickly from the case, her face a mixture of suspicion and a little fear.

"Well maybe that one," she admitted as she looked up at MacDuffie. MacDuffie smiled reassuringly back at her.

"It's all right, Anyanka. All is forgiven."

Anya bristled at her old demon name as she turned to Xander and Willow.

"You don't know who this guy is, do you," she said warily.

"Uhh, the shop owner maybe?" Xander said trying to diffuse what he sensed was his girlfriend's growing uneasiness.

"You're a Guardian . . ." Anya said curtly to MacDuffie as she brushed Xander's hand off her shoulder.

Her remark went completely over Xander's head, but Willow instantly recognized the reference. She turned to face MacDuffie with awe and a little fear. He was still the same middle aged shop keeper from whom she had always bought her herbs, but now she sensed something more, something ominous but not quite threatening.

". . . Mr. MacDuffie . . . are you . . . a Guardian?" she asked softly. Before he could answer, Anya cut in once more. She chattered nervously now as she hovered close by Xander's side.

"It's okay. I'm over the demon thing," she said keeping her distance from the desk where MacDuffie still sat sipping his tea. "I'm on you guys' side now, right? Here, I'll prove it."

Anya pointed to the case of amulets. "I know from personal experience that most of those things wouldn't do squat against a demon."

"You're quite right," MacDuffie answered slowly.

Willow looked up in surprise as MacDuffie nodded.

"In and of themselves," he said, "they are nothing more than crafted pieces of blue stone. But in the hands of one with great faith, the stone channels the prayer from here . . ." MacDuffie placed his hand over his heart, " and it is from that source that the protective power springs forth."

"I never understood how that worked . . . " Anya announced, "but somehow, now it all makes sense. How's that?"

MacDuffie rose from his desk and walked across the shop to stand by Anya's side. He smiled and placed his hand on the top of her head, stroking her blond hair gently as if she were a little child.

"Because, dear Anya . . . " he said soothingly, "a demon lacks the source from which the power is born, . . . hope residing in the human heart. And since you are now a human . . ."

Anya suddenly sucked in her breath and positively beamed at the thought.

"Wow," she whispered as she turned to Xander. Without warning, she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him with a passion and almost ferocity that made Willow turn away and put her hand over her mouth to surpress the giggles.

"Anya!" Xander sputtered not so much in protest as in embarrassment.

"What's wrong?" Anya snapped as she broke off her embrace, "I'm happy!"

". . . Mr. MacDuffie . . . ?" Willow asked, her voice betraying her anxiety. "You didn't answer my question. Are you . . . a Guardian?"

MacDuffie looked over to Willow. She swore she could see what only could be described as a peaceful sadness accentuated by the age lines that creased his face. It was a look she imagined someone would have who could see bits and pieces of that which was yet to come. He did not reply immediately but only sipped his cup of tea.

"I heard Giles mention once that the Guardians are only legendary," she continued nervously, "that they are beyond the Council, even The Powers That Be. That they only manifest themselves in times of greatest danger. And then this morning when Giles was talking to Angel on the phone, he said he'd received a communication from . . . a Guardian. The e-mail . . . that was you."

MacDuffie did not break his gaze at Willow. She sensed his dark brown eyes looking deep into her soul. She backed away a step as she spoke.

"All this time, I've bought my herbs from you. You've helped me with my spells and my writing. You've told me these marvelous stories from ancient times. You've let me to see wonders and worlds I never imagined existed. . . . Why? . . . What are you?"

Slowly MacDuffie strode over to the front window of the shop. Standing in the morning sunlight, he held up his teacup and stared out at the scattered signs of activity in the street. His shadow stretched across the floor of the dimly lit shop.

"My dear lassie, . . ." he answered quietly, not taking his gaze from the window, "it is not what I am . . . I have little more time and am of no consequence here. I am only a witness to that which is past, and my role is almost done. It is not of me you should ask the question, 'Who is the Guardian?'"

MacDuffie turned to face Willow, Xander and Anya.

"Rather you should look to the future . . ." he said speaking to all three of them, "and ask it of yourselves."

There was a long pause. Finally, as if in imitation of Giles, MacDuffie grinned broadly and raised his teacup in what might be mistaken for a toast.

". . . more tea? . . ." he asked with a cheery voice.

* * * * * *

Go to Part 7 


	7. It's so beautiful

**The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind**

**Chapter 7  
"It's so beautiful . . ."  
  
**_by Gaius Petronius_

DISCLAIMER:  
Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB, Fox and Mutant Enemy, Inc. This story can be read on its own or as a sequel to H. P. Lovecraft's "The Haunter of the Dark" from which the Ancient Ones, the Shining Trapezohedron and the character of Robert Blake are derived. 

The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind is set roughly in mid-season four shortly following the death of Doyle but before the creation of Adam and the death of Maggie Walsh.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Suddenly the door to The New Age Curiosity Shop swung open. Giles entered followed by Buffy. Giles' face was a blank stare but Buffy's was downcast, her brow furrowed with concern.

Anya, Willow and Xander spun around in surprise. Only MacDuffie looked up calmly from his cup of tea.

"Oh, Buffy!" Willow exclaimed, "We were getting worried."

Buffy was uncharacteristically silent as she joined the rest of the Scooby Gang. Willow sensed her friend's apprehension.

"What's happened? Where were you guys?" she asked, looking back at Giles.

"I'll tell you later, Will," Buffy muttered.

Immediately, all eyes turned to Giles as he approached MacDuffie. At first, the two men stared at each other. Willow wondered what silent communication was going on between the Watcher and the Guardian. Giles finally sighed as MacDuffie set his teacup down on a display case.

"Hello, Anson," Giles said, his voice subdued.

"Hello again, Rupert."

Giles paused, shaking his head.

"All these years . . . and I never once suspected," he said quietly.

"Rupert, you know that's the way it had to be."

"So the Guardians really do exist?" Giles half asked, ". . . your father?"

MacDuffie only nodded as Giles shook his head and joined the Guardian as they both stared out the front window of the shop in the morning sunlight.

"And I take it, now that you've chosen to disclose your identity," Giles continued ". . . well to paraphrase a saying they have here in the Colonies, it's a sign we're stuck in the middle of Loch Muck, the boat's sprung a leak and Nessie just ate the only paddle."

MacDuffie, almost laughing out loud, grinned broadly.

"It's not all that bad, Rupert!" he chuckled, "You and I, we've been in tight corners before. This is more of the same, . . . just a tad bigger. Now . . . introduce me to your Slayer."

"Of course," Giles grinned back as he turned to face Buffy. "This is Buffy Summers. Buffy, this is Anson MacDuffie, . . . an old mentor of mine . . ."

"Mentor my ass!" MacDuffie interrupted. He bent down and spoke in a pseudo confidential tone to Buffy so that Giles could hear every word.

"Drinking buddies would be closer to it!" he said, "I was his grad counselor at Oxford when he first poked his innocent little nose in the door. Took him under my wing . . ."

Giles' face turned bright red.

"Oh please!" he protested, "You were nothing more than a loose cannon, taking out any pub you happened to stumble into." Giles turned to Buffy in an attempt to dispel the influence MacDuffie was gaining over his charge. Buffy, her eyes now wide, listened in humorous astonishment at the growing squabble between her Watcher and this new Guardian.

"He was the one that needed the direction and refinement," Giles snapped as he pointed at MacDuffie.

"I beg your pardon!" MacDuffie announced with mock indignity.

"When I first met you, you were at the rail in the Sailor's Arms sucking down . . . " Giles snorted with disgust, ". . . straight gin!"

"And bloody good gin it was too!" MacDuffie huffed in response.

Buffy couldn't take it any longer.

"Guys!" she said as she attempted to referee the dispute, "Enough with the Brewery U class reunion! We got an end of the world thing to deal with!"

"Quite right," Giles concurred as he glared at his former university companion. MacDuffie only grinned at Buffy as he folded his arms across his chest.  
  
"So, you're the one that had the Council in such an uproar," he said.

"That's me!" Buffy replied at first all perky. Then suddenly she frowned. "You weren't on the Council were you?"

"Gads! No!"

"Good! I was just gonna say . . ." Buffy said reassured but she stopped in mid sentence as MacDuffie drew himself up to his full six foot one height, stood in front of her and stared. He suddenly wore a look of deep concern on his face that made Buffy uneasy as he gave her the visual third degree.

"Uhh . . . I admit I didn't brush my teeth this morning . . . " she said sarcastically, "and I haven't tweezed my eyebrows in three days . . ."

Giles sensed MacDuffie's sudden uneasiness as well.

"What is it, Anson? What's wrong?"

"I don't know . . . " The Guardian said softly as he ran his fingers through his brown curly hair, "usually I can sense these things . . . but from her . . . there's nothing . . ."

"Nothing!? I'm nothing?!" Buffy bristled.

"No, you misunderstand me," MacDuffie said trying to soothe what he knew was the Slayer's sometimes volatile pride, "The aura emanating from you is very strong, far stronger than I've ever seen in a Slayer. But . . . it's just not what I had anticipated."

"See, Buff! Ya fool 'em every time," Xander cracked, once again trying to relieve the tension he felt growing in the shop.

Giles was puzzled as well by the Guardian's response.

"Just what were you anticipating?" he asked intently.

Again, MacDuffie stared closely at Buffy. Slowly he reached out his hand.

"Take it," he said and Buffy recognized a "control" in his voice. Normally she would resist such an attempt to manipulate her but something deeper in her mind told her to ignore those instincts.

She extended her hand and, as MacDuffie grasped it, she imagined she sensed a surge of subtle power. For a moment she felt his long, strong and wiry fingers intertwined with hers. He then gently released her hand and spoke quietly as if his words were meant for her alone.

"Buffy, . . . you have tremendous powers even for a Slayer, but, for the most part, I sense they are firmly controlled. I don't see how Nyarlethotep will be able to use you to open the conjunction portal releasing the Ancient Ones. And yet you say it's been stalking you for almost a week now?"

Buffy shifted uncomfortably. The image of the mysterious virtually formless entity tracking her through the cemetery brought the goose bumps to the back of her neck.

"Yeah, every night. It keeps coming in closer . . . and I can sense it's getting stronger." Puzzled, Buffy suddenly turned to Anya and Xander, "But, it split when you guys showed up," she said, her brows raised in a question.

"Maybe it doesn't like crowds?" Xander shrugged.

Anya huffed.

"That wasn't us that chased it away," she said curtly as she turned to Xander, "Remember I shined your flashlight at it?"

Xander, Buffy, and Willow only stared at Anya.

"It hates light!" Anya explained in an exaggerated tone as if she were dealing with only Xander.

"How'd you know that?" he asked, shifty to the defensive.

"Give me some credit will ya!" Anya said, now completely disgusted, "I got over a thousand years on the rest of you guys!"

Still Xander and Willow were confused but MacDuffie and Giles nodded with understanding.

"Oh come on!" she snapped, "I've seen these Ancient Ding Dongs plenty of times. They show up every hundred years with all their slimeys, smellies and tentacles . They always find somebody with more power than brains to help them and then we got another end of the world routine. . . . anyway, it hates light."

"Quite right," Giles interjected in support of Anya, "Small amounts will keep the Ancient Ones at bay, and illumination of greater intensity thrusts them back into the Void."

Xander swaggered towards the center of the shop.

"Well then, no problemo," he announced, "It can't hack daylight and at night we just fry its butt in the beams of a couple of headlights."

"If only it were as simple as that," Giles muttered.

"Why?" Willow asked, "We drove it off last night."

Giles shook his head. Clearly the Scooby Gang had little concept of what the Ancient Ones comprised. Giles knew, although only from legend, the nature of the nightmare they faced. He doubted his friend MacDuffie had ever faced them as well but he understood the father, Jameson, had been involved with two shadowy individuals purported to be Guardians during the last rupture between the two universes in the 1930's.

"It'll be back," he answered Willow's question ominously, "It's becoming more resistant to light the closer we get to the planetary conjunction when the Void and this world will be virtually coterminous."

"Which is?" Willow had to ask the question.

"Three nights from now. May fifth."

Buffy stood motionless. The more she learned, the more she imagined she was facing some incomprehensible fate, as if she were standing on the edge of a vast and invisible precipice. Any movement in any direction beyond what lay directly in front of her would send her plunging, into what she had no idea. She knew she was brought to the shop this sunny morning for a reason. She steeled herself for the answers she realized might seal her own doom.

"Giles? Mr. MacDuffie?" she asked quietly, "What is this thing? What are we up against? . . . and what does it have to do with me?"

"You have all read my e-mail to Mr. Giles?" he said softly.

Anya, Xander, Willow and Buffy nodded fearfully. MacDuffie turned and walked toward the front window of the shop once more.

"Good. It is Nyarlethotep . . . the messenger, the Preparer of the Way and the most violent and nightmarish of the Ancient Ones . . . the winged blackness . . . the three lobed burning eye."

Xander turned to the others and tried valiantly to grin.

"How the hell are we gonna fight it? I can't even pronounce it. Anybody mind if I just call it 'Mr. Icky?'"

MacDuffie turned to Giles.

"Perhaps," he said, "we should use the name given it by an old Guardian from my father's time . . . 'The Haunter of the Dark.'" His words sent chills down Buffy's spine. Willow shivered involuntarily while Xander's grin quickly faded from his face.

Giles joined MacDuffie by the window as the two spoke back and forth comparing notes.

"If I understand correctly," Giles said, "it needs three elements to effect an opening of the Void and the releasing of the Ancient Ones. The conjunction of the Void and this world is the first, a life force surge of extraordinary power is the second and something you called 'the key.'"

"Yes," MacDuffie nodded, "A Life Force of that strength can only be found in our modern world in a Slayer. In more ancient times, priestesses of various cults, particularly those of Isis in Egypt, were trained and prepared much as a Slayer and they were the natural targets of The Haunter during past conjunctions."

Giles ran his hand through his hair and adjusted his glasses as he followed the Guardian's gaze out the window.

"We can't do anything about the planetary conjunction. That will happen no matter what . . . " Giles looked over the top of his glasses at Buffy ". . . but I like to think we have some control over the Slayer aspect of it."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Giles!" Buffy snapped and for a moment the tension relaxed in the shop.

"But what about the 'key' you mentioned?" Giles continued, "I'm not familiar with what precisely it is. I presume The Haunter is searching for that as well."

MacDuffie only nodded.

"So . . . What is it? " Buffy broke in. "Better yet, where is it and how do we keep it out of The Haunter's slimy claws."

MacDuffie didn't answer. He only stared at Buffy as if he were evaluating in his mind the numerous paths that now branched out before them all. He closed his eyes, struggling to envision the options looming before them but the attempt was a failure. All the outcomes were deeply concealed by a grey mist like curtain cast down before him. In such a case of many choices, he realized that in fact there was no choice, only one path that beckoned towards him and the others gathered around. As his father had told him, it was time to set out on that path. The die was cast.

The Scooby Gang waited patiently as MacDuffie wrestled with his own thoughts. At last he nodded slightly to himself, pushed his teacup aside and strode slowly over to the closed door of the back storeroom. He selected a key from a key chain withdrawn from his pocket and unlocked the storeroom.

As he opened the door, a pulsating light of an unknown color and spectrum washed the room casting bizarre shadows across the floor and walls. It came forth not as a blinding flash, but rather a deep, rich and mysterious shade not unlike the rainbow of colors from a drop of oil or gasoline on the still surface of a puddle of water. It surged out into the room with almost a liquid like iridescence.

Anya, her face etched with fear, suddenly moved back and took shelter behind Xander. Buffy's body tensed up and her arms almost rose out in front of her in a defensive stance. Giles, too, stiffened as the color washed over them. He firmly grasped the edge of a display case. Only Willow, fascinated by the mystery of what she saw, stepped forward towards the light.

MacDuffie disappeared into the storeroom and moments later returned to the shop. Cradled in his arms in front of him was a dark wooden box and, nested inside on a bed of old excelsium was the source of the light. The Scooby Gang could only see several of the points of the object protruding above the rim of the box.

MacDuffie set the box down on a display case in the center of the shop.

"It's all right," he said calmly to the others, "Although the illumination has intensified in the last twenty-four hours, it seems to be stable."

Buffy lowered her defensive stance. Anya, however, still cowered behind Xander.

"You've seen this before?" MacDuffie asked her, sensing her discomfort.

Anya only nodded.

"You're wise to treat it with such respect," he said.

At the same time, Willow, almost hypnotized by the flood of light, approached the box. Slowly she reached out her hand to touch the object inside. MacDuffie quickly intercepted her, grasping her shoulder and pulling her gently back.

"No, lassie!" he said in an urgent whisper, "Do not touch it! And especially do not gaze into it!"

"But it's so beautiful," Willow murmured.

"That it is. But in it's beauty lies the snare to the unwitting. If you were to gaze into those otherworldly colors, your mind would be seized by its powers within, snatched from your physical body and hurled across the vistas of time and space, to the Void and Beyond! If your soul were strong enough, you might wallow for all time in the nightmare Hell of the Ancient Ones themselves. And if it were not, then your soul would become the eternal food, like the liver of Prometheus, for Nyarlethotep itself!"

Willow cowered away, but still could not take her eyes off the box.

"I told you it eats souls!" Anya whispered to Xander.

"Oh dear God! This thing is . . ." Giles couldn't complete the sentence. After a pause, MacDuffie answered the Watcher's unfinished question.

". . . yes, Rupert," he said quietly, "'The 'Shining Trapezohedron' . . . "

"This object nearly leveled the entire ancient city of Alexandria!" Giles exclaimed in fear.

"This thing blew away a city?!" Buffy asked in astonishment, "I keep asking this, gang! What is it?"

"What you are looking upon . . . is 'the key,'" MacDuffie explained, "Powered by the Life Force during the planetary conjunction, this 'Crystal' opens the gateway between the Void and our universe allowing the Ancient Ones to cross over in their full manifestations and reclaim this world from which they were cast out eons ago."

"And this is what "Mr. Icky" is looking for?" Xander wanted to make the question into a joke but failed miserably.

MacDuffie moved his head in assent.

"Well, hey! Anybody else see something pretty obvious here?" Xander announced, his mind racing ahead with what he imagined was the simplest straight forward solution, "Some damage maybe? A well placed crowbar between its shiny little points? MacDuff, you got a dustpan and broom around here I presume? Could get messy!"

Xander turned as if he were about to go look for a heavy tool with which to smash the Shining Trapezohedron. Anya grabbed his arm and restrained him, all the while giving him her most devastating "Anya look."

"What? What?" he sputtered.

"It won't work, Xander," she said firmly as if she were lecturing a particularly unintelligent but stubborn child, "You don't think in two thousand years somebody hasn't thought of that?"

"It's like the lock on a door," Willow said softly, "You smash the lock and the door swings wide open."

"Precisely," MacDuffie agreed.

"Then what _do_ we do?" Buffy asked fearfully.

". . . return it to the Void from which it came . . ." MacDuffie said ominously, "then . . . on the other side . . . destroy it!"

"Don't tell me," Buffy responded quietly, "Destroying it will require this 'life force' you mentioned. So whoever takes it over . . . doesn't come back."

There was a moment of silence in the shop as the impact of her statement sank in on the rest of the Scooby Gang.

"In order to return," MacDuffie explained carefully, "The one who carries the Shining Trapezohedron into the Void must simultaneously release their own Life Force against it and gaze into its facets, thereby being drawn back into this world in the microsecond before the 'Crystal' shatters. At best, that soul will make it back, drained of all physical life . . . but at least it will return to _this_ universe."

"Great choice," Buffy muttered with deep sarcasm, "Come back dead or be Mr. Icky's lunch for the rest of eternity. No way we can seal this thing up like your father and his buds did?"

"That was only a temporary solution," the Guardian explained, "We lost two powerful Guardians in that struggle. And we know one gazed into the Shining Trapezohedron."

All the Scooby Gang winced at MacDuffie's mention of Blake's fate.

"This time, our universe and the Void will be virtually coterminous with almost nothing standing between them. The planetary forces have not been of this magnitude since 212 A.D., the year ancient Alexandria was nearly leveled."

"How _did_ they stop it then?" Willow asked.

"That's a long story," MacDuffie replied.

"But they did stop it!" Willow declared hopefully, "Maybe we could do it the same way! If we knew how!"

Xander joined Willow. Buffy could see the Gang rallying to her defense again.

"Yeah, I mean, there's no way we're letting you go through that thing, Buff!" he announced firmly.

Buffy grinned sadly at Xander and sighed. Her heart both soared and plunged in the same moment as she drew on the strength of her friends and at the same time realized that the battle ahead would probably be lead by her alone.

"So . . . what happened?" she asked with an almost fatalistic tone in her voice, "How did they stop Mr. Icky and the Bad Boy Brigade?"

"You should do the honors, Rupert. You were always the better storyteller," MacDuffie volunteered.

Willow grinned.

"Cool, I love stories!" she said.

"Well, everyone settle in," Giles sighed, "It _is_ a long story, something all Watchers, . . .and Guardians I presume as well, . . . " Here MacDuffie nodded in agreement, "have been required to commit to memory."

"You had to memorize it? Why?" Willow asked.

Giles paused. He saw all the Scooby Gang's eyes riveted on him. He knew they would be hanging on every word. Buffy especially he studied and realized that she and the others were now falling into a preordained role in a grand sweep of historic events of which no one knew what the outcome would be.

"Because it recounts a single occurrence in 212 A.D. from which the Watchers and the legend of the Guardians trace their beginnings," Giles said slowly, "We all began, Slayers, Watchers and the Guardians in our first great triumph and disaster. And it has set the stage for our struggles, indeed our very conduct ever since."

Giles leaned against the side of MacDuffie's desk. Willow and Buffy pulled out a pair of folding chairs while Xander and Anya hopped up on the counter next to the mechanical cash register. MacDuffie stood next to the display case that held the Shining Trapezohedron. His arms were folded on his chest, and he didn't move. Giles began speaking slowly and quietly, his face illuminated by the bizarre color flowing from the Shining Trapezohedron. Each one bending forward, the Scooby Gang struggled to hear him as Giles began the ancient tale born in fire and blood.

* * * * * * * *

Go to Part 8 


	8. I, Lecritis

**The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind**

**Chapter 8  
"I, Lecritis . . ."  
  
**_by Gaius Petronius_

DISCLAIMER:  
Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB, Fox and Mutant Enemy, Inc. This story can be read on its own or as a sequel to H. P. Lovecraft's "The Haunter of the Dark" from which the Ancient Ones, the Shining Trapezohedron and the character of Robert Blake are derived.

The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind is set roughly in mid-season four shortly following the death of Doyle but before the creation of Adam and the death of Maggie Walsh.

Rating PG-13 for some violence.

A Note on the text: The character of Petronius, the Roman governor is not me! I just chose the name because it sounded good in the story.

* * * * * * * *

"Where to begin . . . where to begin . . ." Giles mused as the Scooby Gang stared at him expectantly. Even the display cases in the New Age Curiosity Shop itself seemed to hold their breath in anticipation.

"Perhaps the beginning would be good," Willow offered, and Giles smiled at her gentle wit.

"The story only appears in its entirety in Lecritis' Alexandrian Chronicles," he started, "and that survives by pure chance. A single manuscript was secreted away in the desert by a lone scribe when the Christian authorities put all the pagan works in the Alexandrian Library to the torch. The other historians of the period make only a passing reference to the "great earthquake" of August 15, 212 A.D, but Lecritis was an eyewitness."

"I have a copy of the Leiden reprint," MacDuffie volunteered.

Giles nodded his head. MacDuffie reached up to a bookshelf lining one of the walls and brought down a particularly dog eared small leather bound volume. He handed the worn book carefully to Giles who opened the cover and scanned the pages.

"Yes, this is it," Giles said with recognition and some awe in his voice, "I haven't read it in a long time. It's quiet a tale."

For a moment, he looked up at the Scooby Gang and gazed silently on their expectant faces.

"You must understand," he said, "That Alexandria at that time was the crown jewel of the Roman Empire. The greatest port in the eastern Mediterranean with its mighty lighthouse, the Pharos, one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, whose beacon could be seen for fifty miles out to sea, Alexandria supplied the grain that kept the empire fed and the mobs in Rome under control. It was also the foremost seat of learning with the vast collections of its famous Library unsurpassed in number until the nineteenth century by the British Museum."

"The normally tempestuous city remained largely calm for many years under the able administration of its Imperial Governor, whom we know only as Petronius. He realized that to manage this polyglot and contentious mixture of Greeks, Egyptians and Romans he would need to exercise the greatest of negotiating skills for mediating conflicts rather than constantly resorting to the typical Roman solution to all disagreements, the broad sword."

Here Giles began to read directly from the little book.

"Lecritis even said that he grew to love the city and the mysteries of Egypt, so much so that he lost all longing to return to his native Italy. He was a frequenter of the great Library, could be seen often in the Hippodrome cheering on his favorite chariot teams and spent considerable time with the religious leaders of Egypt in an effort to better understand the culture and beliefs of the people under his rule."

"One in particular, the High Priestess of Isis named Cassandra, an Egyptian woman of Macedonian descent on her father's side, became his confidant in all things Egyptian. During the years of his governorship, Petronius and she were virtually inseparable, so much so that his enemies, and there were many among the Romans who chaffed under his even handed rule, spread the word that their liaison was romantic and clouded his judgment as governor."

"But their denunciations fell on deaf ears at Rome. Petronius' patron, the old emperor Septimius Severus would have none of it. Although a harsh and firm ruler himself, Severus recognized Petronius' administrative skills. The grain flowed, the city was quiet and taxes to the Imperial Treasury grew with each passing year. But storm clouds were building on the horizon."

"Septimius Severus died in 211 A.D. and his cruel and unstable son, Caracalla, ascended the throne. A reign of terror immediately swept the capital as the new emperor eliminated the prominent heads of senatorial families. The wave of assassinations culminated in the murder of his own younger brother and co-ruler, Geta. Then Caracalla turned his attention to Alexandria, dispatching a spy named Necror, under the guise of a Priest of the Imperial Cult. Necror's assignment was to undermine Petronius so that the emperor would have cause to recall him to Rome and appoint Necror as his replacement."

"When Necror presented himself on his arrival in Alexandria to Petronius, the Governor knew his days were numbered, but he would not resign his position, as Necror suggested, nor abandon the welfare of the city and country he had come to love to the depredations of Caracalla. Lecritis, who was the governor's stenographer, describes the interview as 'chilly.' 'Frigidus' I think was the Latin term."

Giles paused as Buffy and Willow grinned slightly at his description. Anya's attention remained riveted on Giles. Only Xander fidgeted slightly.

"Giles . . ." Buffy finally asked as she stared at the pulsating Crystal, "What does all this have to do with 'glow boy' over here?

"Within days of Necror's arrival in Alexandria, . . . the Shining Trapezohedron surfaced in the city," Giles said ominously.

Buffy, Willow and Anya's eyes all opened wider. Buffy sucked in a little gasp of air between her teeth and Willow frowned. As Giles began to read again, Buffy, Willow, Anya and Xander were drawn in, spellbound by what they imagined were the temples, towers, walls, harbor, the vistas out of time now come alive in the ancient writer's tale.

Giles continued.

"A wandering tribe of Egyptians discovered it among the sands obscuring the ruins of a pre-dynastic temple beyond the Meriotic Swamps to the south of the city. After two of their party gazed into it and their bodies were rendered alive but empty of soul, the others took it to the High Priestess, Cassandra, who recognized immediately the nightmare object they had uncovered. But Necror's spies were everywhere. Realizing what the Crystal could do, he devised the mad plan of releasing the Ancient Ones which, in his egomaniacal world view, would then turn their powers to the support their benefactor, himself."

"Petronius and his few loyal Roman troops would be easily overthrown and Necror installed as Governor of Egypt. Perhaps, he even had twisted dreams of his own imperial glory or the establishment of himself as divine Pharaoh of Egypt. Whatever his thoughts may have been, it would not be the first nor last time that megalomania would reach out to touch powers and evils beyond all human comprehension."

"Necror hired a band of Syrian mercenaries who stormed the Temple of Isis. They seized the Shining Trapezohedron and butchered all those inside but one, Karintha, the young initiate and designated successor to Cassandra. She was kidnapped so that her Life Force could be twisted to the support of Necror's designs."

"Miraculously, Cassandra, too, escaped the blood bath and fled to the only person she knew she could trust, Petronius. He immediately launched a city wide search but by the time his troops uncovered Necror's hideout, the Imperial Priest had already begun the ritual to open the Void and summon Nyarlethotep. Karintha, not yet trained in the skills of combat, had been restrained by the Scythians and Necror sewed her eyelids open so that she could not resist gazing into the Shining Trapezohedron. By the time Cassandra and Petronius arrived with a cohort of the palace troops, Karintha's soul and Life Force had been drained, drawn over into the realm of the Ancient Ones."   
  
"Petronius launched an assault against Necror's lair and the Romans easily scattered the Syrian mercenaries and captured Necror but the damage was done. Pointing to the south of the city into the darkness of the night, Necror laughed and taunted Petronius and Cassandra.

"'Gaze on your fate, Petronius! And you Egyptian Harlot! Nyarlethotep is coming!' he cried. 'The Preparer of the Way, the Feaster of Souls! And It is _very_ hungry!'"

"Petronius grabbed Necror by his thick greasy locks and twisted his face towards the Shining Trapezohedron. 'Then you, my dear creature of Caracalla, shall be an evening snack!' With those words, the Governor rubbed the Priest's face against the burning surface of the Shining Trapezodron and Cassandra stepped forward, drawing Necror's eyelids open with the long sharp points of her fingernails."

Willow and Buffy winced at the description of Necror's fate.

"All right!" Xander exclaimed, finally finding some action in the tale that held his wandering attention.

Giles stopped reading and the others stared disapprovingly at Xander.

"What? He is the bad guy, isn't he?"

"Xander . . . shut up," Willow said firmly.

"Go on Giles . . . what happened?" Buffy said, her eyes fixed on her Watcher.

Giles continued reading again, using his finger to follow down the lines on the page.

"Lecritis reports that. . . 'the Imperial Priest's screams died out in less than a minute, after which Petronius dropped his living but soulless body to the pavement. But there was no time even to reconnoiter. Across the Meriotic Swamps towards the city from the direction Necror indicated rolled a wall of blackness far darker than even the night itself."

"Petronius commanded his troops to fan out back into the city and make their way towards the harbor, alerting all citizens and soldiers alike to light every candle, lamp and torch they possessed. He ordered two of his most trusted guards to bear Karintha's living body back to the Temple of Isis. Then he turned to Cassandra."

"I, Lecritis was an eyewitness to these events and heard his words. I report them exactly as I remember them. 'Cassandra?' the Governor asked, his face painted with uncertainty in the torchlight, 'it's hours before dawn will come to our rescue! What do we do? How do we fight it?'"

"'Torches and lamps will do little good, now that Nyarlethotep has been summoned,' the Priestess replied as she pulled back her long black hair off her shoulders. 'We may yet have a little time. I can sense that Karintha's soul is still struggling against It on the other side, but she won't be able to hold out long. Already I see Nyarlethotep joined by Cthulhu and Azathoth swirling in around her.'"

"'What is its strategy?!' Petronius asked, his voice trembling with urgency. 'If I know what it will do, I can devise a plan of counter attack!'"

"'It's ultimate goal is the Shining Trapezohedron. Without that, it still remains vulnerable to light and cannot complete the union between the Void and our world. We must protect the Crystal above all else!'"

"'Nyarlethotep will first attack concentrations of power that It perceives as a threat. Spread your troops out into small contingents. Swords are no good here. They must be armed with torches of tar and pitch. You must . . .' here Cassandra paused as if she were preparing to plunge a dagger deep into her own breast. ' . . . you must torch strategic blocks of the city. Only that way can you produce enough light to keep Nyarlethotep at bay so that both your soldiers and the citizens may fall back towards the harbor.'"

"They set the city on fire?" Willow whispered.

Giles glanced up from the book for a moment.

"Lecritis reports that the hardened Governor's face blanched in horror at Cassandra's solution," Giles began reading once again.

"The Governor turned away for a moment and stared at the whirling wall of black advancing on the city. He then faced her once more and spoke."

"'Cassandra,' he said, 'I've trusted you in all things these past five years, even that which is most precious to me. I see no reason not to trust you now.' Petronius then turned to a centurion standing rigidly at attention by his side. He uttered only two words, and his heart sank as he spoke them."

"'Do it,' the Governor commanded, his words barely audible to those standing around him."

* * * * * * * * * *

Go To Part 9 


	9. Pharos

**The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind**

**Chapter 9  
Pharos  
  
**_by Gaius Petronius_

DISCLAIMER:  
Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB, Fox and Mutant Enemy, Inc. This story can be read on its own or as a sequel to H. P. Lovecraft's "The Haunter of the Dark" from which the Ancient Ones, the Shining Trapezohedron and the character of Robert Blake are derived. 

The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind is set roughly in mid-season four shortly following the death of Doyle but before the creation of Adam and the death of Maggie Walsh.

Rating PG-13 for some violence.

* * * * * * * *

Giles looked up from the small worn volume from which he was reading. He stared out the shop window, the look on his face as if he himself were reliving the horrific night he was recounting. Buffy and Willow waited anxiously for him to resume the tale.

"Giles . . . ?" Buffy said quietly as if she were afraid to break the trance into which her Watcher appeared to have fallen.

"Hmm?" he muttered.

Buffy stared at him silently and nodded her head, encouraging him to continue reading.

"Oh, yes, . . . Sorry about that," he replied.

Giles returned his attention to the book once more and as he read out loud, the terrors of a single night from almost one thousand eight hundred years ago came alive once more.

"And so the entire Roman garrison of Alexandria fanned out across the streets that paralleled the Meriotic Swamps from which the darkness was surging. Armed with torches, they served as a flimsy shield of light as the citizens were roused and told to make their way towards the harbor."

"And from out of the advancing black deeper than night came the shrieks of Nyarlethotep, like the hideous screams of an eldrich bird of prey. There was a flapping of giant black wings and the three lobed burning eye swept down towards the defenders. It launched blazing red globes of liquid heat that exploded leaving nothing in their wake but broken shapes and piles of charred ash."

"As Cassandra predicted, the torches were a poor defense and even the firing of whole blocks of the city only caused Nyarlethotep to shift its assault to other darker approaches to the harbor. Back, back the defenders retreated, contesting every inch but still no match for the spawn of another universe that continuously ripped holes in their lines."

"By now, Cassandra had rallied the Egyptian and Greek troops in the city as well, and they stood side by side as brothers with their former Roman conquerors. One lieutenant among the Greeks even offered to set the Library ablaze. Its thousands of dry parchments would provide light enough to spare, at least temporarily, the center of the city from the Hell that continuously flew down from the sky.

But Petronius flatly refused, threatening with execution on the spot anyone who so much as harmed a single scroll in the building. Then he cursed under his breath that he would be damned if history should record him, along with Julius Caesar, as the Roman who torched the great Library."

"Meanwhile the bewildered and panicked citizenry of Alexandria fled up the avenues, past the Serapeum, around the Library, under the Arch of Trajan toward the grain warehouses lining the harbor."

"Petronius knew that Cassandra's solution was little more than a holding action. He, Cassandra and a half dozen seasoned Roman soldiers guarding the Shining Trapezohedron had retreated to the north end of the wharves. All the while Petronius could see the monstrous black shape of Nyarlethotep sweeping out of the advancing wall of blackness as it tested the strengths and weakness of the Roman, Egyptian and Greek lines of torches."

"And then suddenly at his side, Cassandra gasped in terror. As Petronius caught her by the shoulders, she dropped to her knees. She whispered to him as the tears rushed down her cheeks, 'She's gone! Karintha is gone! She couldn't hold out any longer and succumbed!' With those words, Petronius knew, short of a miracle, that all before him, too, would soon fall."

"In that moment, Cthulhu, relishing his strength in the new world, stirred the seas into a raging tempest with winds driving monstrous waves over the docks, breakwaters and the causeway itself leading out to the Lighthouse. Across the harbor, the heavily laden grain ships pitched in the massive swells and capsized. At the same time, Azathoth reached from beyond the Void and opened the sky, releasing torrents of foul black rain that doused the light of almost every fire and torch."

"And then, with a screech that pierced the conquering darkness, Nyarlethotep swept down unrestrained upon the city of Alexandria. The last lines of defense crumbled as the Preparer of the Way beat its hideous wings over the cowering heads of the mob of retreating soldiers and citizens."

"It seemed in a moment more all would be darkness, but then Petronius' head spun in the direction of the sea, for he saw something reaching out like a limb of hope extended to a drowning man."

"Light! Faint, but light nonetheless coming from somewhere! And then he saw it."

Willow almost leaped out of her seat.

"The Lighthouse! Giles, the Lighthouse!" she cried out.

Smiling, he nodded at Willow and continued to read.

"Yes. 'At the end of the causeway commanding the entrance to the harbor! The mighty Pharos! The great Alexandrian Lighthouse! Quickly Petronius whispered a prayer of thanks to Isis."

"Grasping the despairing Cassandra by her shoulders, he directed her face up towards Alexandria's most famous landmark. She instantly understood and was on her feet. Petronius signaled the soldiers guarding the Shining Trapezohedron to follow and, in a moment, all had leapt from the dock down onto the Great Stone Causeway leading to Pharos Island where the Lighthouse stood."

"Now, picture if you will the scene, as I, Lecriptis saw it, the little band struggling across three hundred yards of sea drenched stones, all around them the foam tipped waves cascading, each second threatening to sweep them away. Overhead a rain of red fireballs descended on the city as Nyarlethotep rejoiced at the impending destruction of humanity and the final victory of the Ancient Ones."

"As they stumbled through the blackness and tripped over slippery stones, Petronius, on Cassandra's urging, forbade the soldiers from lighting their torches. He remembered well her warning that the Preparer would attack any perceived strength or threat. As it raged in fury over the fleeing crowds and crumbling warehouses, Nyarlethotep was still searching for the Shining Trapezohedron, now concealed under a soldier's cloak."

"The Crystal had to remain hidden at all costs even though the screams from shore made the Governor stop as they finally reached Pharos Island and pause at the foundation of the Lighthouse. Drawn by the despairing cries of a city facing its end, he nearly turned back to look, but Cassandra quickly and firmly placed her hand on his shoulder. I, Lecritis was with them. I saw their eyes met for a moment, and then the soldiers in the small party burst through the locked door leading inside."

"'Come! This way!' Cassandra shouted as she began the ascent up the winding stone staircase that hugged the inside wall. The others followed. They directed their eyes above to a single torch burning three quarters of the way up the center of the tower barely illuminating above it the entrance to the great beacon itself."

"Although the hand of Cthulhu thrashed the Mediterranean into a fury and all around the foul breath of Azathoth flattened buildings and overturned ships, the Pharos barely creaked and groaned softly in the tumult. The climb seemed to last for hours, but when one of the soldiers' spirits began to fail, Cassandra called out over her shoulder that Pharos was designed to withstand any power of wind or wave this world could hurl at it. It was built for one purpose, so that the mariners of the East, lost and in peril on the sea, could reach port safely."

"'Let's hope the Ancient Ones don't think of an earthquake,' Petronius muttered under his breath."

"'You're not helping!' Cassandra replied sarcastically as the little band finally reached the beacon chamber at the top of their ascent. The room that encompassed the entire top of the Lighthouse was shuttered tight against the outside, the fire in the lantern itself barely glimmered. The great lens, nearly ten feet in diameter and pointed out ocean ward, was dark. Hours earlier, in a panic during the first assault, the Keeper had fled his post and let the light die."

"Now Petronius and the soldiers, oblivious to the shrieking winds and the human cries of despair mingled with the howling, gathered the wooden buckets of pitch and tar the Keepers used to ignite the beacon fire and tossed them whole scale into the lantern chamber. One younger soldier, Alexandros, carried over to Petronius a large closed amphora. The Governor was about to break the seal when Cassandra called out to him."

"'No! Don't open it!' she cried."

"Petronius examined the mouth of the amphora and carefully sniffed the seal. His eyebrows raised with recognition. He then ran his hand across the vessel's mouth, and when he drew it away, his fingertips glowed with an eerie luminescence."

"'Phosphor!' he exclaimed to Cassandra."

"'Greek Fire!' she whispered back. 'It'll explode on contact with air.'"

"Petronius was silent for a moment; then he grinned back at Cassandra."

"'So be it,' was his response. 'Isis be blessed!'"

"Flames were already lapping at the tar and pitch in the lantern chamber. Beyond the concealing planks of the beacon tower, the beating of Nyarlethotep's mighty wings made the wooden louvers shudder in their framing."

All the Scooby Gang were now on the edge of their seats. Anya's fingernails dug deep into Xander's shoulder but he never noticed. Willow sat motionless, nervously nibbling at the tip of her finger she had in her mouth. Buffy, too, was frozen in her seat and unable to take her eyes off of Giles. She hadn't so much as twitched since Giles described the death of Karintha.

And still Giles continued the story.

"'We must turn the lens one hundred and eighty degrees so that it shines back over the city!' Petronius shouted. The lantern chamber was mounted on a cantilever rotating base but held in place by a massive bolt mechanism secured with a giant bronze lock. The releasing key was nowhere to be found. Petronius cursed the cowardly Lighthouse Keeper."

"The Governor was almost in despair when Alexandros stepped forward and placed his hand reassuringly on Petronius' shoulder."

"'Please stand aside, my Lord,' was his cheery response. Alexandros drew his broad sword and swung the blade repeatedly against the golden padlock. With each blow, the soft bronze gave and bent until, with one last furious stroke, Alexandros severed the locking mechanism in two. His sword was deeply notched and for all future use ruined but it had accomplished its job. The bolt dropped out to the floor with a loud clang. The giant lantern chamber and its massive lens were now free to turn."

"Without waiting for an order, the soldiers put their shoulders to the metal case enshrouding the lantern and slowly began turning it away from the sea and back in the direction of the beleaguered city. The beacon tower groaned and creaked under the shifting weight. Necessity gave the soldiers a strength they never knew they had. They completed the rotation of the lantern chamber in less than a minute."

"Every moment, Nyarlethotep swooped closer and closer towards the Lighthouse, the foulness of its breath penetrating even the beacon chamber. Far below, the Causeway was now drowned under the seas at Cthulhu's command and the giant waves crashed against the stones fully halfway up the Pharos itself. Petronius, Cassandra, Alexandros and all the others in the tower knew there would be no escape. Their fate, and indeed that of the world, rested on their actions in the next few moments."

"'Now,' Petronius shouted to Cassandra over the rising din, 'I must lure it to us.' But before he could move, the Priestess of Isis stepped up to the soldier concealing the Shining Trapezohedron beneath his cloak and held out her hands. The soldier cast a questioning glance at Petronius who only nodded in assent. The soldier drew the Crystal out from under his cloak and passed it to Cassandra. An unearthly color of an unknown spectrum flooded the beacon chamber as Cassandra held the glowing object out in front of her."

"'What we do now is not for this world.' she spoke loudly to Petronius, 'It is for revenge! To bring peace to the soul of Karintha! To make the Ancient Ones pay for daring to desecrate Isis and those whom She loves!'"

"At the same time, many struggling to survive on the shore, saw Nyarlethotep break off its attack on the city. It was as if doubt, even fear, had suddenly intruded upon the mind of the Preparer, distracting it from its final purpose. It spun around in mid air, the three lobed burning eye searching in confusion this way and that."

"'Then, let it be so,' Petronius said to Cassandra. 'May the Goddess be with us!' The Governor then commanded four soldiers to line up, their shields raised in front of them, facing towards the giant lens. The burning pitch and tar in the lantern chamber was now strong and the shields reflected back the beam generated by the lens, preventing the light from reaching the boarded up openings of the Lighthouse tower.

"'You will hold that position until my command,' Petronius shouted to the four men. 'Then you will quickly step aside. Is that understood?' The men nodded as Petronius turned to Alexandros."

"'Break open the tower cover that faces out over the city.'"

"Understanding the Governor's plan, Alexandros grinned once more."

"'With pleasure, my Lord!' and he lifted a large iron bar the Keepers used to stir up the fire and coals in the lantern chamber."

"Cassandra protested. 'The beacon from Pharos may keep Nyarlethotep at bay for a while but it will not be brilliant enough to cast the Ancient Ones back into the Void!'"

"Petronius stooped and lifted the sealed amphora. He stepped over by the open door where the Keepers fed fuel into the light chamber."

Willow cried out again, as if she were seeing the story unfold before her eyes.

"Oh my God, Giles! He's going to blow them up!"

Giles looked up momentarily from the Chronicle and spoke with authority.

"Lecritis reports here that Petronius cast a fatalistic Roman smile at Cassandra.  
'The Goddess has given us a gift,' he said. 'I trust fully in Her wisdom . . . as I trust in you.' Petronius quickly kissed Cassandra and for a moment, as Cthulhu, Azathoth and Nyarlethotep raged all around outside the Pharos, Petronius and Cassandra stared deep into each other's eyes as their thoughts, loves and dreams, their very souls teetered together as one on the edge of the end of the world."

"'Romans!' the Governor shouted to the shield bearers in front of the lens, 'On my command! . . . Alexandros!'"

"Alexandros tightened his grip on the iron rod."

"'Let us teach this scum of the Void what it means to fear . . . the Light of Isis! Break open the tower!'"

As Giles read, the entire Scooby Gang gave a collective gasp.

"Instantly, Alexandros swung the iron bar in his hands over and over against the planks concealing the beacon chamber from the City of Alexandria. As the boards shivered and dropped away, Azathoth snatched them in his breath before they could fall even a few feet. And then the colors from the Shining Trapezohedron poured out into the blackness of the Void that hovered over the city. And Nyarlethotep beheld and knew his arrogance and folly."

"The Preparer of the Way banked sharply over the blazing warehouses below. All its energies were channeled toward the Shining Trapezohedron glowing in the tower of the Pharos. And the three lobed burning eye instantly recognized who still possessed the last obstacle to the Ancient Ones' final victory. It was Cassandra, the High Priestess of Isis."

"In that moment their eyes met for a fraction of a second, the infinite evil of the limitless worlds beyond human understanding and the cold green eyes of the High Priestess that spoke only one word, revenge! Cassandra stepped forward and raised the Shining Trapezohedron high over her head."

"'Come!' she cried out. 'Come to me, foul beast of the realm of Shaggai! Feel the wrath of Isis!'"

"'Here kitty, kitty, kitty,' Alexandros muttered as he grinned evilly.

"Nyarlethotep's black skin-webbed wings beat madly in the winds Azathoth whipped across the harbor. Sweeping down out of the heights of the darkness, Nyarlethotep soared towards the Pharos, following the straight line of the Causeway directly at the open face of the beacon chamber. The three lobed burning eye released a ball of red liquid that struck the tower halfway up, spattering in blazing globules off the massive marble stonework."

"'Just a little closer, you bastard!' Petronius growled outloud as if he were unable to hear his own thoughts. The black form with the blazing red monstrosity of an eye floating at the end of its snake like neck roared forward and was almost upon them. The evil of its very presence weighed like massive stones laid on their chests, crushing the air out of all in the tower."

"'NOW!' screamed Petronius and the shield armed soldiers jumped aside from the front of the beacon. The light from the lantern chamber poured through the giant lens illuminating Nyarlethotep from top to bottom, and halting the Preparer of the Way in mid flight. For a moment, the three lobed burning eye floated in the roaring winds only yards away from the tower."

"And then a voice pierced through the din, a voice Petronius and Cassandra instantly recognized, the deep rasping tone of Necror."

"'Is that the best you can do, Governor? Do you think a little light will stop the return of the Ancient Ones from reclaiming what is theirs! In seconds, you will all be eternal food for . . .' but the Voice halted in mid sentence. Something had distracted its attention.

Nyarlethotep's slithering neck yanked back sharply as if an unseen entity from the other universe had seized it in a furious stranglehold. Struggling against its invisible tormentor, the Preparer rose up so that its massive underbelly faced the beacon chamber."

"A young woman's voice suddenly rang out from all around them."

"'Now, Petronius! NOW!' she called."  
  
"'Karintha!' Cassandra cried out in despair."

"At the same time, Petronius raised the amphora over his head and cast it with all his strength into the lantern chamber. The large clay vessel shattered on impact in the fire, releasing an explosion and a flash of piercing light that threw everyone in the tower to their knees, left them temporarily blinded and reeking of phosphorus."

"The mighty lens concentrated the sudden burst of illumination into a beam of light that shot out of the Pharos like a blazing javelin from Zeus himself. It struck the soft upturned underbelly of Nyarlethotep in an instant, piercing the dark flesh and spilling out its foul innards to rain down on the Causeway and harbor below."

"Screaming in a sound never hear on this earth and soaring up into the sky, the Preparer twisted in spirals towards the wall of blackness enveloping the city. In a moment its body dismembered, the fragments tumbling in all directions."

"The blast of light from Pharos did not stop there. Searing across the sky, it punctured a hole in the wall of darkness so that Ra, in his manifestation as the brilliant Egyptian dawn, pored through, dissolving the night. The black clouds, as if washed in a bath of aqua regia, bubbled, foamed and shriveled away. The winds died and the sea returned to its appointed boundaries as Nyarlethotep, Azathoth and Cthulhu, in one final howl, cursed their fate and were sealed up in the Void once more."

"And it was said that miles away across the city in the temple of Isis, Karintha opened her eyes as a soft warm breeze blew the long strands of her golden hair. Lying on her catafalque, she smiled at the startled attendants watching over her and breathed a deep sigh. Then her soul, freed from the Ancient Ones, passed on to Paradise Beyond the River and her body died."

"Thus did Cassandra, Petronius, Karintha and Alexandros seal the Ancient Ones back in the Void. That very morning, Petronius and Alexandros, by themselves, sailed a small boat out into the Mediterranean and cast the Shining Trapezohedron into the sea. In the weeks following, Petronius broke open the surviving granaries to feed the populace of Alexandria. But the grain ships, many destroyed in the conflagration, ceased traveling to Rome, and soon the Emperor's legions came and arrested Petronius."

"Cassandra and Alexandros fled the city on Petronius' orders but the Governor remained behind. Turning himself over to Caracalla's troops was the only way he saw to spare the Province further turmoil and bloodshed."

"At Rome, Petronius was tortured by Caracalla himself, but the Governor would not reveal the resting place of the Shining Trapezohedron. His only response as the Emperor inflicted torment after torment upon him was 'Put your mind at ease, my Lord. It is safe.'"

"Finally, Petronius was strangled and his body cast down the Gemonian Steps, the Stairway of Mourning, where the corpses of executed criminals were discarded, there to be food for the vultures and the dogs."

"I, Lecritis, heard it on good report that Caracalla posted guards at the Stairs that night, but by dawn his men fled in terror before the Shade of a young woman, a Priestess of Isis they swore, with long blond hair. And as the soldiers ran, one looked back over his shoulder in time to see a tall dark haired woman dressed in eastern fashion accompanied by a soldier gather up the body of Petronius. Together with the Phantom, they all disappeared among the streets leading away into the dawn shadows."

Giles slowly closed the worn leather volume. There was a long pause. Willow gave a tiny sob, while Buffy, her face expressionless, stared at the floor.

"You understand . . . don't you?" Willow finally said to Buffy as her voice quivered.

"Yeah . . ." Buffy murmured, "I wish I didn't, Will."

Willow stood up from her chair, and knelt down beside Buffy who sat motionless. Willow wrapped her arms around the Slayer and held her tightly.

". . . They're us, . . . aren't they Will," Buffy said, her voice barely audible.

Willow's eyes were wet as he answered.

"Buffy, you won't do this alone. I'm gonna be at your side all the way. I'll use all the magic I know . . . and I'll find more. Buffy, you're not doing this alone."

"Thanks, Will," Buffy said sadly as Willow released her grip.

Xander jumped down from the counter and began to pace in confusion back and forth across the shop. He still couldn't take in all he had heard.

"Wait a minute Giles! Are you trying to tell us that, even if we burn down all of Sunnydale, we still might not be able to stop this thing?"

Giles gazed for a moment at the closed book in his hand. He replied to Xander's question, but as he did his gaze was focused on Buffy.

"I don't know," he said, motioning with the book, "We must learn from their experience."

Buffy glared at the Shining Trapezohedron.

"Put that damn thing away . . . " she growled at MacDuffie, "I don't want to see it ever again."

The Guardian nodded and collected the wooden box up in his arms. He quickly carried it into the storage room and shut the door. As the bizarre color from the Shining Trapezohedron was closed up once more, the shop seemed strangely dark.

"They were the first, weren't they," Willow said softly to MacDuffie.

"Yes," he answered, "Legends say, Petronius was the first of the Guardians, Cassandra the first Watcher . . . . ."

MacDuffie stared at Buffy who looked back at him, her eyes wide.

". . . and Karintha . . . the first Slayer," she murmured with understanding.

No one moved. The shadows from the morning light through the front window crisscrossed the room like a maze of prison bars.

*** * * * * * * ***

**Go To Part 10**


	10. When you finally believe

**The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind**

**Chapter 10  
"When you finally believe . . ."  
  
**_by Gaius Petronius_

DISCLAIMER:  
Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB, Fox and Mutant Enemy, Inc. This story can be read on its own or as a sequel to H. P. Lovecraft's "The Haunter of the Dark" from which the Ancient Ones, the Shining Trapezohedron and the character of Robert Blake are derived.

The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind is set roughly in mid-season four shortly following the death of Doyle but before the creation of Adam and the death of Maggie Walsh.

This section is rated PG-13 for some raunchy language.

* * * * * * * * * * *

The morning sunshine couldn't quite penetrate the depths of the former Chase Mansion. Beyond the closed curtains in the living room, there was evidence of the bright California morning outside. Cordelia Chase sat sound asleep in her father's wing chair. Beyond the entrance to the kitchen came the noise of plates and silverware being set out on a table. In a few minutes that was followed by the snapping and popping of bacon and eggs cooking in a fry pan.

Although still half asleep, Cordelia stirred slightly in the chair. Her little nose wriggled as she smelled the cooking food. She then opened her eyes and rubbed her face. She gazed around the room, remembering where she was and sighed as if she had somehow hoped the dream would last a little while longer. She stood up from the chair and stretched but covered her mouth politely as she yawned. She walked through the open doorway into the kitchen.

Angel, an apron wrapped around his waist, stood in front of the stove as he stirred the pan full of bacon and eggs over easy with a spatula. Cordelia stretched again in the doorway and smiled.

"Nice get up," she said indicating the apron.

"Good morning to you, too," Angel said over his shoulder.

"Mmmm," Cordelia drew in through her nose a deep breath of the cooking aroma, "Those smell good. Where'd you get 'em?"

"I hit the mini-mart before dawn while you were asleep," Angel answered not looking up from his work tending the eggs on the stove in front of him.

Finally he turned down the gas on the range and slid the bacon and eggs into a plate on the table. Cordelia wandered into the kitchen and sat down in front of the plate of food and a companion mug of hot coffee. Ravenous, she plunged into her breakfast. Suddenly she looked up with her mouth full.

"Oh, did you want any?"

"That's okay," Angel grinned slightly.

"Oh yeah . . . I forgot. You're not going to get all grrr! on me if you get too hungry are ya?"

"I stopped by Stan's Meat Market on the way back," the vampire answered with a smile, "Stan's always in there setting up early."

For a moment Cordelia contemplated Angel's visit to the meat market, then shuddered.

"Oh . . ." she muttered ". . . yech!"

Angel gave Cordelia a silent glare that said, "Come on, we've been through this before!"

"Sorry," she answered sheepishly to his reproving stare.

"Go on. Finish your eggs before they get cold," he said as he turned back to the stove.

"Yes, Mommy."

Angel cast a glance over his shoulder back at Cordelia whose smile broadened. She picked up the coffee mug and took a sip, holding it out in front of her as if offering a toast.

"You're okay, Boss."

Smiling himself, Angel returned his attention to cleaning up the stove. Cordelia sipped her coffee and ate a few more mouthfuls of breakfast. Angel poured himself a mug of coffee and sat down at the other side of the breakfast table. For awhile he stared silently over at the kitchen windows, the curtains drawn shut, and contemplated the brightness of the light that still managed to leak through around the edges. Cordelia paused eating and followed his gaze. She looked silently back at Angel. If he knew she was watching him, he gave her no indication.

"Angel? . . . " she said hesitantly, almost in a whisper, "Did I ever tell you . . . I was sorry . . ."

"Huh?" he replied quietly, his attention on the sunlight broken.

"That I was sorry . . . you know . . . for what happened between you and Buffy."

Angel stared back at Cordelia. He studied her perky smile and realized how much he valued her completely up front attitude that allowed her to say exactly what she was feeling regardless of the consequences.

"No . . . you never did . . . thanks . . . for saying it."

"I really am," she continued, "I mean Doyle and I, we used to laugh and joke all the time about you two but . . ."

Angel waited for Cordelia to finish the sentence but she remained silent, staring herself at the diffuse light slipping into the kitchen around the closed window curtains.

"Cordelia . . . ?"

". . . huh? . . ." she looked back at Angel as if she had been gently woken from a pleasant dream only to realize that she was back in the hard reality of the present.

"It's all right . . ." Angel said softly, "I miss him, too."

Looking down at her plate, Cordelia pushed the remaining food around aimlessly with her fork.

"Yeah . . ." she replied, "You know, it took me a long time to finally realize what Buffy saw in you. And it was Doyle who helped me see it. . . ."

"He was good that way. He helped me appreciate" Angel smiled ". . . _your_ finer points."

Cordelia grinned back at Angel. She shook her head.

"Look at us," she said ironically, "What a pathetic bunch of losers. Besides the fact that I'm sitting here having breakfast with a vampire who's a great cook!"

Relaxed, Angel sat back in his chair and laughed quietly.

"No really!" Cordelia continued with a self deprecating humor that Angel had rarely seen, "I mean me, I've a hopeless acting career . . . actually I got no career at all! I work for a PI company that's losing money out its rear end. We got a business number that's one digit different from the Korean take out . . . I just lost a guy who could have been the love of my life, and I never even knew it. We're sitting here in my family's house that we just lost to the IRS. And now I got some demon with three eyeballs throwing firebombs at me!"

For just a moment she paused and sat up straight, announcing her next sentence with the perkiest voice she could command.

"You think somebody's trying to tell me something?"

Angel grinned and nodded his head.

"And you . . ." Cordelia said slowly to Angel without any trace of sarcasm, "You lost your whole world."

The grin left Angel's face as he stared ahead.

"Ever since Francis . . . I mean Doyle . . . died . . ." she mused as much to herself as to Angel, "Well, I've been able to see it in your eyes. I . . . I never really looked before, but now I sort of understand what Buffy probably saw. Why she loved you . . . cause she knew she was the only one who could make all the pain go away."

Angel's gaze dropped to the floor as he sighed.

"I'm sorry, Angel," she said after a long pause.

"Me, too," he answered looking back up at her.

Cordelia took another sip from her coffee mug.

"What a bunch o' losers . . ." she muttered.

". . . yeah . . ." he replied quietly.

Suddenly a loud knocking erupted from the outside door to the kitchen. Cordelia and Angel both jumped in unison and stared at each other. For a moment, neither moved.

"Oh! Yeah, the sunlight thing. I forgot," Cordelia exclaimed as she leaped up to check out who was at the door. As she fumbled with the deadbolt, the door suddenly shoved open and there standing in the bright morning sun was Kate Lockley. She tossed her head authoritatively so that her long blond hair swept across her shoulders. Shoving Cordelia aside, she barged into the kitchen.

"All right! Where is he? Where's Angel?" she asked brusquely as she pushed past Cordelia.

"HEY!!" Cordelia squalled.

"Easy, Cordelia," Angel said as he turned in his chair to face Kate, "So, how'd you find us?"

"Your 'rogue demon hunter' is a moron!" Kate announced as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Angel studied her up and down, a move that Cordelia immediately picked up on and didn't like one bit.

"And what brings you to gorgeous Sunnydale?" he asked as he continued to sip his coffee.

"Oh, just that half the precinct is looking for you!" the LA policewoman answered dripping sarcasm.

"I'm touched. So what's goin' on?"

"You tell me!" Kate almost shouted, and she tossed her head to shake her hair off her forehead. Quickly Angel held his finger up to his lips, urging her to keep her voice down.

"I got reports you and 'Leggs' here were tossing Molotov cocktails on the Santa Monica Freeway at two in the morning!" she snapped in an exaggerated whisper.

Cordelia gasped at the insult.

"You know that wasn't us, Kate," Angel answered calmly and sipped on his coffee again.

"Oh no? Two eye witnesses and a cracked up Beamer with a scorched paint job say otherwise!"

"Listen, Kate, we're dealing with something here that's extremely dangerous. It's an entity that . . ."

Kate huffed in disgust. She almost threw her hands up in the air and paced furiously in front of the kitchen table.

"Not another one of your goddamn entities!" she said, her voice rising as she grew more agitated with each passing moment, "I've had it with you and your _entities!_ Every time you walk into my office, I get this sick surging in my stomach, cause I know Hell is right behind you!"

"Kate . . ." Angel began in a voice as soothing as he could muster. The police detective paid no attention. Now face to face with Angel for the first time in weeks, she struggled to suppress her welling emotions.

"I know what you are and I wish I _didn't_! Crap, I wish to hell I'd never laid eyes on you! Then at least maybe . . ."

Kate caught herself and stopped in mid-sentence. Seething with suppressed anger, she still kept her gaze fixed on Angel.

Angel stared her straight in the eyes.

"Kate . . ." he said slowly, "I didn't kill your dad . . ."

At first, the look of fury on Kate's face was unchanged. Then, slowly, as Angel stood up and spoke, Kate gritted her teeth. Her breathing became shorter and shorter as if she were suppressing a series of sobs. But her eyes, steely blue and cold, remained fixed on Angel.

". . . I couldn't stop them . . . he wouldn't ask me in . . ." Angel said as clinically as possible.

". . . damn you . . ." she cursed under her breath as she realized she was on the brink of striking out at him.

"He wouldn't ask for help. Not from anybody. You know that."

"God damn you, Angel!"

"Not even from you . . . that's what got him killed."

"Shut Up!"

Kate pulled back her clenched fist and swung with all her strength at Angel's face. The blow connected squarely against his jaw. Angel staggered back a pace but he didn't fall, neither did he respond to her blow. Kate grasped her clenched fist with her other hand and winced from the pain. She cursed the truth under her breath and wouldn't look Angel in the face. She breathed heavily all the while massaging her bruised hand.

Cordelia moved swiftly to Angel's side.

"Angel!"

"It's all right, Cordelia," he said, rubbing his jaw.

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"You two got some issues here to straighten out!" she said looking across the table at Kate who glared back, "I think this is a good time for me to take a shower!"

"You do that," Angel answered, still massaging his sore jaw.

"You guys play nice, now!" she said over her shoulder as she left the room, "I don't want to come back and find the place trashed! I mean, what would the IRS say!"

"Promise," Angel dead panned her.

With Cordelia gone, Angel turned back to face Kate. Regaining some of her composure, she still nursed her sore hand.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"No," Kate wouldn't look at Angel, "But that's no big news."

"Kate . . . " he said sympathetically as he walked up beside her.

"Now what the hell am I supposed to do! I've lost everything I got, just made an ass of myself in front of you and now Internal's gonna demote me, putting me back on the desk to 'cool off!'"

"Kate, you have to go on from here."

"He was the only thing I had left . . . I'm alone now . . . completely alone," Kate said shrugging her shoulders a she tried to hold back her emotions, "As if I wasn't alone before when he was still alive!"

"Kate, you're never really alone," Angel answered but he could sense the words coming out hollow even as he said them and regretted it immediately.

"Yes, you are! . . ." Kate lashed out as she turned to confront him, "You, of all people, how could you spout that bullshit!"

Angel couldn't answer. He shook his head because he knew he had no answer. Kate tried to keep her steely blue eyes fixed on him but she finally turned away again. Her emotions were winning and she hated losing more than anything.

". . . damn it, Angel!" she whispered, ". . . why couldn't you have just _gone into the fucking room!_ . . ."

"You'll only know the answer . . . ," he said gently as he stepped up close beside her, "when you finally accept, . . . when you finally _believe_ . . . what I am."

Angel and Kate's eyes locked on one another. Shaking her head as if trying to deny what she knew, Kate lowered her head as she realized her control was rapidly slipping away. Angel slowly wrapped his arms around her and she buried her face on his shoulder. Her brilliant blonde hair spread out like a silent waterfall across his dark clothing.

". . . damn it. . . goddamn it . . ." she whispered against his smooth leather jacket.

Angel held her tightly and said nothing. He thought he heard a quiet sob but wasn't sure. Slowly she lifted her head off his shoulder and stared him straight in the face.

". . . everything used to make a screwed up kind of sense . . . on the force we all had our monsters and demons to deal with but I could understand what they were and where they came from . . . until you showed up."

Angel, his brow furrowed, stared back at her.

". . . And now none of it seems real. Cause I can't figure out why the hell you even exist . . ."

Angel didn't break away from her gaze nor could he respond since he had no answers himself. Kate pulled him in close to her again and whispered in his shoulder.

"Damn you . . . you vampire bastard . . ."

There was a long pause as neither she nor Angel stirred from each other's embrace. Finally Kate lowered her arms and stepped away from Angel. She wiped her eyes with her sleeve and nodded at him, as her self confident swagger quickly returned.

"Well . . . now look what the hell you made me do . . ."

"What?" he asked.

"Fucked up my mascara," she said wiping her eyes again.

"Oh, sorry about that," Angel replied.

"At least I got all that crap outta my system," she said flippantly, as she struggled to pass off the last few minutes as nothing more than an embarrassing outburst that should be quickly forgotten, "You got any coffee around this dump?"

"Yeah, fresh pot," he answered with a faint grin, "No donuts, though."

"Shut up . . . or I'll belt ya again," she answered quietly and tried hard not to smile.

Angel walked over to the stove and poured a cup as Kate sat down at the table. He quickly slid the cup in front of her and pulled up another chair. Kate leaned over the coffee, took a big gulp and stared back at Angel. He returned her glare.

"So . . . what _are_ you doing here?" he asked.

"Trying to come up with one good reason not to haul you and 'Leggs' back to LA." Kate took another swig of the black coffee.

"Her name's Cordelia."

"She's a cute little missy. You two got a history?" Kate asked sarcastically.

Grinning, Angel shook his head.

"Then what? As a secretary she's hardly any better than your 'Rogue Demon Hunter.'"

"She's one of the reasons . . . let's just say she can see things. She can tell when something's coming down."

"_She's_ got contacts on the street? Sweet thing like her?" Kate asked in astonishment.

"No, I mean . . . she _sees_ things," Angel struggled with the explanation.

"Like what?

"She has visions."

"Aw, Christ!" Kate muttered in disgust, rolling her eyes at the same time.

"Hey, you wanted to know."

"Maybe you better start at the beginning," Kate said as she leaned back in her chair and nursed the last few swallows of coffee, "Seems every freak show I end up with in my lap lately, the trail leads back to you . . . and this stinking little burg!"

"Yeah, Sunnydale . . ." Angel mused, "Different kind of place."

"So start talking," she said expectantly.

"It's a long story, Kate."

"Hey, I got time," she said smirking as she glanced over at the draped windows with the light leaking in around the edges of the curtains, "And you sure as hell aren't going anywhere!"

Angel grinned back at her.

"I especially want to hear about this . . . Buffy person. Whenever I stumble over one of your stinking _entities_ . . . that name keeps popping up."

"Well . . ." Angel stared up at the ceiling as he sat back in the chair, "Once upon a time . . ."

Kate leaned forward across the kitchen table and listened intently as if she were a traveler parched with thirst and lost in an endless desert as she drank in every word.

* * * * * * * * * *

Go To Part 11 


	11. Pain Which Cannot Forget

**The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind**

**Chapter 11  
Pain Which Cannot Forget  
  
**_by Gaius Petronius_

DISCLAIMER:  
Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB, Fox and Mutant Enemy, Inc. This story can be read on its own or as a sequel to H. P. Lovecraft's "The Haunter of the Dark" from which the Ancient Ones, the Shining Trapezohedron and the character of Robert Blake are derived. 

The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind is set roughly in mid-season four shortly following the death of Doyle but before the creation of Adam and the death of Maggie Walsh.

This section is rated PG-13 for some raunchy language.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Soldiers and technicians scurried to and fro in a frenzied buzz of activity on the main floor of the Initiative Headquarters. The row of operating tables where demons were regularly experimented on had all been shoved over to the side of the central staging arena. In their place was set up a command center of long tables piled high with computer monitors and an array of sensors and other less identifiable equipment. In the center of the huge open room by the command center, Maggie Walsh stood surveying what was clearly her domain. She didn't say a word but only cast an occasional glare, which seemed to convey her deep displeasure with the pace of operations, at any passing petrified technician.

Overhead on the catwalk that led to the elevator entrance, Riley Finn, still clothed in his military camouflage from last night's patrol, emerged from the security checkpoint. As he entered, he bumped into his fellow squad sub commander, Graham who stopped him before he could proceed.

"Heads up, man," Graham whispered, "Maggie's gunning for ya!"

"What? What the hell did I do now?" Riley sighed in resignation.

"Seems she didn't take a liking to your report."

Graham's commander rolled his eyes and sighed again.

Below on the main floor, Hunter walked cautiously up to Maggie Walsh's side and waited patiently to be recognized. She didn't turn to face him, but she knew he was lurking.

"Yes? What is it?" she said curtly.

"Munitions reports they've boosted the output on the alpha packs as high as they'll safely go. Any setting above fifteen hundred degrees and the rifles themselves will melt and explode."

Walsh only nodded in acknowledgement. Considering himself lucky once more, Hunter turned and disappeared into the safety of the crowd of Initiative soldiers and technicians.

Professor Walsh stared around her, searching for someone on whom to vent her frustration at the slowness of the Initiative preparations. Suddenly, she caught sight of Riley up on the catwalk.

"Agent Finn!" she barked as heads turned from all directions to stare up at the catwalk.

Maggie's call caused both Riley and Graham to look down onto the main level of the Initiative Headquarters.

"Yes Ma'am!" Riley shouted back.

Good luck, man," Graham said giving Riley a quick pat on the shoulder.

"Thanks," Riley replied.

Riley turned away from Graham and ran along the catwalk. He double timed it down the spiral stairs and sprinted across the main floor of the Initiative Headquarters to Maggie Walsh's side.

"You wanted to see me, Ma'am?"

"Agent Finn," she stated firmly, "I'm very dissatisfied with your report on last night's encounter."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Your orders were to engage the entity . . . to evaluate its offensive and defensive capabilities."

"It was already engaged by the time I made visual contact."

"So you reported . . . ," Walsh said slowly, "with the Slayer!"

Riley didn't respond.

"And you claim it only withdrew on the arrival of several of her friends?" Riley imagined her words to be as cold as the Minnesota lakes he used to go ice fishing on as a child.

"Yes, Ma'am," he replied, trying not to let his mind wander. Surviving an interview, actually interrogation was more like it, with Professor Walsh required single minded concentration.

"One of them shined a flashlight at it," he volunteered, "It appeared to be sensitive to the light."

Riley sensed he had made a mistake bringing up that information. He knew it was important and had included it in his report but he figured Walsh wasn't going to want it to be emphasized. He wasn't wrong.

"Preposterous!" she snapped, "An entity with that kind of power! Besides, its own energy bursts produce visible light! It can't be afraid of its own energy!"

"But only light at the red and infra-red end of the spectrum," Riley interrupted, realizing at the same time he was only compounding his mistake, "It could be sensitive to higher frequencies as you move into yellow, green and violet. Ordinary white light is a mixture of all frequencies and . . ."

Walsh turned to Riley and froze him with an icy glare. Knowing that she was furious, he immediately shut up so that she could correct him and restore her clamp on authority.

"Your hypothesis is in error, Agent Finn," she said with finality.

"Yes Ma'am."

"Did you attempt to follow it after the encounter?" she continued as if the previous exchange had never occurred.

"No, Ma'am. I felt it more important to try to get more information from Buffy."

"Shit!" he thought, "mistake number two!"

"So, . . . , " Walsh asked, her voice dripping sarcasm, "You let the entity slip away. And the information you gained from interviewing the Slayer?"

Riley was silent and hung his head ever so slightly. Better to surrender now, he figured, rather than let the interrogation get completely out of control.

"I see . . . I will repeat, Agent Finn!" she growled, "We must ascertain where this entity goes during daylight hours. It is concealed somewhere in this area."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"You will double the daylight undercover reconnaissance patrols," Walsh commanded, "I want to know where this thing hides during the day! Is that understood?"

"Perfectly, Ma'am," Riley snapped to attention with the best military crispness he could command.

"Dismissed!"

Riley nodded sharply and walked away as Maggie Walsh stared after him. She sighed and shook her head. Then for a few moments, she stood motionless staring straight ahead amidst the organized chaos of the Initiative. Finally she took a deep breath and barked out orders to no one in particular.

"Where are those infra-red scans?!" she yelled at the faceless crowd of Initiative operatives swirling around her, "I want those 8 a.m. scans, people! . . . NOW!"

* * * * * * * * *

Buffy and Willow sat together on the bench under the shade of a large tree. It was warm in the late morning sun on the Quadrangle near the Student Union of UC Sunnydale but the leaf laden boughs of the old spreading trees provided patches of cool shade that made them the perfect lounging spot for students seeking a break from classes. This morning, the Quad was almost empty with few students passing by.

"So, . . . you and Giles saw Faith? She's awake?" Willow asked quietly.

"I don't know whether you can call it awake," Buffy answered slowly as if she were reliving the incident, "Her eyes are open and she's looking out but . . . . they're like totally red and all sunken."

"Does she recognize you?"

"Not really," Buffy answered shaking her head, "There was like a couple of seconds when her mind sort of . . . kicked in. She said 'Hi, B!', ya know wise ass the way she is, and then . . .'help' . . . and then it was like she was swept away."

Buffy shivered as she remembered her powerful adversary's plaintive cry before Faith's mind slid away into oblivion.

"Maybe if you spent a little time with her," Willow suggested, "Just sat there and talked quietly, she might come around."

Buffy looked down at the ground and shook her head.

"I don't know whether I could go through that again, Will."

Buffy, . . . you've gotta go back," Willow answered quietly but firmly, "Whatever's happened, she's trying to tell you something. Giles said she's dying. Maybe she knows something about this Nyarlethotep thing. Mr. MacDuffie says it's trapped in that place between our world and the Void . . . he calls it the Aether . . . amidst the unconscious . . . and those who are near death."

Buffy looked back up at Willow. She knew her friend was right, that she should be spending every minute she could with Faith. If there was any way that Faith had information on the entity they were facing, they had to find out what it was.

But she couldn't. How could she explain to Willow that the very sight of Faith with her blood red eyes and soulless voice gave her the "wiggins" like she'd never experienced.

"Willow, it's so weird. I can't look at her," Buffy struggled to explain, "I mean it's still Faith and all, her face is the same, her hair's the same but . . . when I look in those eyes, all red and sunken, . . . it's like there's nothing there. Nothing looking back at me. It's not that she's changed but she's not even in there. It's almost like, she's just a living corpse. I mean she was a bitch and all but . . . what's happened to her, Will? Where's her soul?"

"I . . . I don't know," Willow said sadly, shaking her head.

"Besides, why would she want to help us anyway? Heck she tried to kill every one of us! And then after what I did to her?"

But Willow wasn't so easily convinced.

"Her spirit did come to you while you were unconscious," she said earnestly, "She showed you how to defeat the Mayor."

"I don't know whether that was her . . ." Buffy wondered, "Or just my own mind taking stuff I already knew . . . and having Faith tell it to me . . . so I wouldn't feel so guilty."

Buffy could see that Willow wasn't going to accept that explanation. Her friend was not about to give up.

"Buffy," Willow answered, "You'll never know if you don't try talking to her. They say when a person's in a coma, unconscious like that, if they hear someone they know, it's like that familiar voice is a beacon of light . . . guiding them back to this world."

Willow always had a way of putting things.

". . . kind a like a lighthouse . . . " Buffy replied softly looking back up at her friend's face.

Willow grinned and somehow, Buffy felt the hope radiating from that smile.

"Yeah . . . like the Pharos . . ." Willow nodded.

Buffy and Willow looked into each other's eyes, each sharing the deep emotions they had been experiencing over the past few days. Both smiled sadly understanding the complex bonds that kept them best friends.

"I . . . I guess you're right," Buffy said quietly but without any great certainty.

"If Giles and Mr. MacDuffie are correct," Willow answered, "That Wall of Darkness is coming real fast. It'll be here tomorrow night. We've all got to be our own little beacons of light . . . just like Petronius and Cassandra and all the soldiers with their torches, so we can hold this thing off long enough to figure out how to destroy it once and for all."

"We _know_ how it has to be destroyed," Buffy said with as much Slayer firmness as she could command. Right away, Buffy knew Willow wasn't buying it.

"No!" Willow replied sharply, "There's got to be another way!"

"Yeah, right," Buffy said, sighing with despair as she turned away from Willow.

That was all Willow was going to take. She couldn't let her best friend lose hope now just when it was needed most. She straightened herself up on the bench and scowled with a look that Xander lovingly referred to as "Willow Tough!"

"NO!" she lectured, "Buffy Summers, you listen to me! We've all been down this road before, you, me, Xander, Cordelia, Oz! We've faced up to things we've had no hope of beating. And we've kicked the shit outta them anyway! The Mayor! The Master! Acathla! The Judge!"

Buffy looked back up at Willow. Although she realized and deeply loved what her friend was trying to accomplish, Buffy also respected Willow far too much not to share with her the deepest fears she felt rapidly rising to overwhelm her.

"But at what cost?" Buffy whispered.

"I won't argue with you there . . ." Willow answered without hesitation, understanding the emotions with which Buffy was struggling, "The things and people we love the most."

"And why, Will?" Buffy asked as if she sincerely believed her friend might possibly have the answer.

For a moment, Willow was lost for a response and fell silent. Then her hazel eyes brightened as her mind began racing.

"Hang on a sec. I just read this the other day. I want you to hear something," she said quietly but with an intensity that drew Buffy's attention.

Willow bent down and rummaged in her book bag sitting on the ground at her feet. She pulled out a small soft leather bound volume and rapidly thumbed through the thick yellow pages.

"Whatcha got? You break into Giles' secret stash?" Buffy asked, her curiosity aroused.

"Actually, he lent it to me. It's an ancient Greek playwright named Aescylus. Here, listen."

Willow read slowly and carefully.

"Even in our sleep, pain which cannot forget   
Falls drop by drop upon the heart,  
And in our own despair, against our will,   
Comes Wisdom to us . . . by the awful grace of God."

Buffy scratched her head and frowned.

"Hhmm. If that's true," she said, "Then that makes us the smartest ass people in Sunnydale."

"Not smart, Buffy," Willow protested as she realized her friend didn't understand, "Something else real different and a lot more important."

"What good does it do ya if you're dead?" Buffy answered with a finality that struck Willow straight to the heart.

"You're not gonna die!" she said firmly, "We're going to find a way to destroy this thing! And if we can't, and you have to go through into the Void, then we're going to get you back out. . . alive!"

Buffy stared at Willow. Her friend's confident declaration somehow, in spite of all the gloom and doom she had heard from Giles and MacDuffie, still gave Buffy hope and indeed a surge of strength that the Slayer had felt rapidly draining away over the last several days.

"Will, . . . " Buffy answered with a tone to her voice that sounded like she was holding out her heart in her hands and passing it to her friend, "Sometimes . . . I wonder what my life would've been like . . . if I'd never met you. If that first day I came to Sunnydale, we'd just passed by in the hall and never spoke."

Sensing what was coming, Willow tried to pull a page from Xander's book and lightly brush off Buffy's confession.

"Hey, you wouldn't have passed history in a million years without me," she said grinning, "I saved you from wearing that really stupid dress to the junior mixer. I showed Angel how to do his hair all spiky funny . . ."

Buffy suddenly leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Willow. Surprised, Willow was about to protest but she immediately understood what Buffy was trying to tell her. Silently, Buffy held her friend tightly.

"I don't think I'd be alive today . . . thanks, Will," she finally whispered.

For a moment they remained in each others embrace. Then Willow pulled back and grinned her trademark smile.

"Me neither," she answered sincerely.

From the far end of the quadrangle, Riley strode into view. He was walking fast and looking around in all directions for Buffy. Staring over Buffy's shoulder, Willow quickly spotted his approach.

"Uh oh. Beep! Beep! Boyfriend alert!"

"Oh no! I don't know if I want to see him now, Will!" Buffy groaned as she glanced over her shoulder in the direction Willow was staring, "He'll know something's wrong. What am I gonna tell him?"

At the same time, Riley caught sight of Willow and Buffy on the bench in the shade. Eagerly, he broke into a run.

"Well . . ." Willow said shrugging her shoulders, "The truth might be good?"

"But he'll get all mothery and Super Protectiveman. . . . and I'm afraid . . . that thing'll kill him."

Willow stood up to leave.

_"Tell him_. Not me," she said firmly.

Riley reached the bench and stood in front of Willow and Buffy. Willow imagined he looked like a puppy dog, all smiling and panting, out for a morning run.

"Hi!" he said with a cheery grin.

"Hey!" Willow smiled back. She looked down at Buffy, "That's my cue."

"See ya later," Buffy said, now resigned to having to face Riley alone after the previous night's encounter.

"I'll catch you back at the room later this afternoon," Willow said as she stooped down and collected her book bag, "I'm getting together with Giles and Mr. MacDuffie again at the shop. We're going to go over some things about our little . . . problem."

"Okay," Buffy answered and for just a moment she envied Willow's independence.

Buffy watched Willow fondly as her friend walked briskly away. When Willow had disappeared at the edge of the Quad, Buffy turned to Riley.

"Hi," she said uncomfortably.

"Hi," Riley answered, puzzled by Buffy's reticence.

There was an awkward silence as Riley stood expectantly in front of Buffy who remained seated on the bench.

"Can I sit down?" he finally asked.

"Sure," she said, patting the empty space on the bench next to her with the palm of her hand.

Riley sat next to her and stumbled for words.

"I . . . I really want to apologize for last night," he said hesitantly, but it was just what Buffy needed to hear.

Buffy stared at Riley for a moment. Then, realizing how much he cared and how much she loved him, she leaned forward, wrapped her arms around him and kissed him in a long passionate embrace. She ran the fingers of one hand through his sandy blonde hair and squeezed him firmly at the waist with the other. A lone student walking by on the brick pathway stared briefly.

Finally Buffy leaned back and grinned.

"Apology accepted," she said seductively.

"I guess I'll have to apologize more often," he replied softly.

"Girls love it when guys say they're sorry," Buffy whispered into his ear.

Buffy leaned forward as she and Riley kissed again. She wondered as she wrapped her arms around him once more, if Willow knew of any way to freeze time. Willow was getting strong as a Wiccan. She could do it, Buffy thought as Riley gazed into her eyes. Time, she pondered, to hold it firmly in place, like she wanted to do with Riley, perhaps that was the only solution to the fate she knew awaited her on the next night.

"Buffy?" Riley asked as she drew back from his embrace. He could tell that her mind was racing far away from where they sat on the bench.

"Riley . . ." Buffy whispered back almost trembling.

"What? . . . what is it?" Riley shook his head, now sensing something was very wrong.

"I . . . I can't see you . . . for the next two days," Buffy blurted out.

Riley only stared at her. There was another awkward pause.

"Buffy . . . I love you," he finally said quietly.

"I know," was her whispered answer, but she didn't want to face him.

". . . and I know you love me, too," he continued.

Buffy turned sharply to look directly at Riley. Her eyes glistened as she struggled not to let any tears slip out and run down her face.

"So, since that's not the problem . . . " he went on with a sudden mental precision that somehow gave her chills of horror, "There's got to be something else. It's that creature that's been stalking you, right?"

Buffy stared at him in shock. She didn't answer but only shook her head, trying to deny what she knew he had already figured out.

"It's gonna be okay, Buffy," Riley continued with naive enthusiasm. His reassuring smile only frightened Buffy all the more. "The Initiative is on top of this thing. Professor Walsh has been tracking it and we're gonna try to take it out, actually capture it, . . . tomorrow night. So you got nothing to worry about."

". . . no! . . . no! . . . Riley!" she whispered in agony, shaking her head.

"We've got these new alpha particle weapons that . . ."

"NO! Please Riley, listen to me!" Buffy interrupted pleading with him, "You have to keep away from it tomorrow night! And you have to stay away from me! You've gotta convince Professor Walsh to call off the Initiative!"

"Why?" he asked, stunned at Buffy's emotional response, "We've got all our equipment primed up and . . ."

". . . because if you don't . . ." she answered slowly and quietly, "All of you will be killed."

There was a long pause as Riley stared in disbelief at Buffy.

" . . and tomorrow night I'm already going to lose enough that's precious to me," Buffy said, her voice laced with despair.

"I don't like the sound of this. What aren't you telling me?"

"That thing, it's not of this world. It's trying to break in . . . from another place, another time. It's going to happen tomorrow night . . . and it won't be the only one. There'll be others like it. All the Ancient Ones will be with it . . . as it leads the way."

"What are you talking about?" Riley said oozing that military confidence that Buffy always found so aggravating, "Take it easy. Me and my squad, we can handle this."

"No, you can't! Only I can!" Buffy shouted back in frustration.

"Come on, Buffy! I've got twelve squad men armed with . . ."

"Do you love me?!" Buffy interrupted.

"I just said I did," he replied, puzzled.

"Then call it off!"

Buffy quickly bent forward and wrapped her arms around Riley. She pressed her lips furiously against his and kissed him with a passion she had previously only reserved for the darkness and intimacy of their nights together. She didn't want to let go. Time had to stop now. Somehow, if this moment never moved, everything would be all right.

She realized in Riley's embrace that Nyarlethotep or the Ancient Ones weren't the enemies. It was the future, the dark impenetrable future that terrified her. And, as if in answer to her revelation, Buffy imagined she saw through a wall of blackness, a city in flames.

She pulled back sharply from Riley. Her eyes begged him for an answer. Slowly, Riley spoke, knowing full well his response was not what Buffy sought.

". . . Buffy . . ." he whispered sorrowfully, "I can't . . . Maggie won't . . ."

Riley stopped in mid sentence. Buffy stared back at him without speaking. Her face and green eyes were a mask of agony and horror. She restrained a sob in her chest but couldn't control the tear that finally run down her cheek. She quickly stood up and faced him. She spoke as if she were addressing a condemned man who didn't yet realize his fate had already been determined.

". . . then, goodbye . . . Riley Finn."

Buffy turned and ran away down the path through the quadrangle. Riley jumped to his feet and almost broke into a sprint to follow her, but something made him pause. He stood, bewildered and puzzling over what Buffy had told him. He couldn't help but feel chills run down his spine as he realized that something was watching. Something far away and yet nearby.

He looked up into the sky and despite the bright sunshine, tried to image what the entity Buffy had described, Nyarlethotep, the three lobed burning eye, was seeing as it gazed down from the Void where it was imprisoned. He suddenly realized with a shock how he must appear from such a distance, small and alone, standing by the side of an empty bench on the nearly deserted quadrangle.

* * * * * * *

Go To Part 12 


	12. Wild Mountain Thyme

**The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind**

**Chapter 12  
Wild Mountain Thyme  
  
**_by Gaius Petronius_

DISCLAIMER:  
Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB, Fox and Mutant Enemy, Inc. This story can be read on its own or as a sequel to H. P. Lovecraft's "The Haunter of the Dark" from which the Ancient Ones, the Shining Trapezohedron and the character of Robert Blake are derived.

The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind is set roughly in mid-season four shortly following the death of Doyle but before the creation of Adam and the death of Maggie Walsh..

* * * * * * *

Willow stopped by the dorm on her way back from meeting Buffy in the Quadrangle and grabbed a quick bite to eat in the cafeteria. It was about an hour later when she reached MacDuffie's New Age Curiosity Shop where she was supposed to join the Guardian and Giles for a few hours of research. As she entered through the front door and stared around, Willow was puzzled at the darkness. Even though outside it was a bright mid afternoon, the interior of the shop was in shadows except for the illumination cast by one small lamp over in the corner.

Suddenly the sound of slightly off key but enthusiastic singing drifted from the storage room that housed the Shining Trapezohedron. Willow's mouth dropped open and her eyes widened. It was Giles and MacDuffie and they sounded drunk. She stood still for a moment just inside the front door.

"Oh, the summer time is a comin',  
And the leaves are sweetly turnin' . . ."

The lyrics floated through the air and the singing had a slurred drunken earnestness with the faintest hint of a Scottish accent.

"Giles?" Willow called out hesitantly.

"And the wild mountain thyme,  
Blooms across the purple heather . . ."

"Giles?" she called out again, this time a shade louder, "Mr. MacDuffie?"

The singing suddenly stopped. Giles' voice rang out from the storage room.

"Willow? Is that you? Come in! Come in! You're just in time for the chorus!"

Willow hesitantly approached the open storeroom door. As she peered in, singing erupted from the room once more.

"And we'll all go together!  
To pull wild mountain thyme,  
All across the purple heather . . . !"

Willow edged into the storeroom. Giles and MacDuffie were seated on a pair of old wooden crates. In front of them on a third crate rested a half empty bottle of single malt scotch and the box containing the Shining Trapezohedron. Although the box lid was closed, traces of the Crystal's bizarre light pierced through cracks in the wood, and cast bizarre shadows across the shelving and walls of the storeroom.

Giles and MacDuffie each held a small clear juice glass half full with the amber liquid. Willow hesitated just inside the edge of the doorway.

"Don't stand there like a cabbage!" Giles announced with a cheery grin, "Pull up a seat."

Quickly, MacDuffie slid a another crate up between him and Giles. He patted the wood top with his hand.

"Sit! Sit!" he commanded, "Rupert, don't be such hairy barbarian! A glass for the lassie!"

Unsure whether she should sit down or flee the room while the getting was good, Willow finally settled uncomfortably on the empty crate. Giles fished around in a cloth bag at his feet and pulled out another juice glass. He slammed it down a little too forcefully on the crate. The bottle wobbled from the vibration and the Shining Trapezohedron shivered in its box. Willow stared anxiously back and forth between Giles and MacDuffie.

MacDuffie swept up the bottle and with a flourish poured Willow's glass about one third full.

"There. You're all set," he said as he turned to Giles, "Now, Rupert, where were we?"

Giles thought deeply for a minute, a vacuous stare blanketing his face. Slowly he shook his head and began to sing in a cracking tenor.

"And . . . we'll all go together,  
To pull wild mountain . . ."

"Rupert!" MacDuffie snapped.

"Yes, what?" Giles answered in surprise.

"The topic at hand, please!"

"Which was?"

MacDuffie was about to reply, but he suddenly stopped as if his thought had eluded him.

"Bloody hell!" he muttered, "What were we talking about?"

Giles pondered for a moment. His eyes lit up with the victory of certainty.

"Oh . . . yes! Quite right!" he exclaimed and then paused, ". . .The end of the world!"

"Right!" MacDuffie agreed, "The end of the world!"

There was another pause. Suddenly, in a drunken toast, Giles raised his glass.

"To the end of the world!"

MacDuffie hesitated, still sensing, even in his intoxicated state, that there was something inappropriate about such a toast. But then, he shrugged his shoulders as if he didn't care to analyze the nuances of the proposal and instead lifted his glass as well.

"Damn good then! To the end of the world!"

Both Giles and MacDuffie took big swigs from their glasses.

That was enough for Willow.

"Hey!" she shouted at them both.

"What?" Giles gagged on his drink and slopped a little on his shirt front.

"We're supposed to be doing research here!"

"But we are . . ." MacDuffie protested.

"Oh, right! Look at you two! It's not even three in the afternoon . . . and you're drunker'n skunks!"

"We most certainly are not!" the Guardian huffed as he turned to Giles for support, "Are we Rupert!

"I, for one, am in perfect control of my facilities!" Giles announced with his nose firmly pointed in the air.

"That's faculties, Giles," Willow said.

"Those, too!"

"You guys are plastered!"

"Perhaps we are properly snobbled," MacDuffie admitted. Again, he looked over to Giles, "Do you think?"

Giles cupped his hand in front of his mouth and blew into his fingers. He then sniffed his breath and recoiled sharply.

"Whew! Oh dear. I'm afraid so."

"Now we've gone and bloody done it," MacDuffie answered discouraged.

"Yes I suppose we have mucked up things quite badly," Giles confessed "But . . . well . . . it _is_ the end of the world."

MacDuffie thought about that for a moment.

"Right . . .!" he finally announced with conviction

The Guardian picked up the open bottle and poured a splash more of scotch into both their glasses. When he turned to Willow's, she quickly put her palm over the mouth of the glass.

"To the end of the world!" MacDuffie raised his glass in another toast.

Giles and MacDuffie clinked their glasses and took another swig. After MacDuffie swallowed, he noticed Willow hadn't touched hers. He waved his hand at her in encouragement.

"Well, go on!" he encouraged her.

"Guys, this is real raunchy stuff."

"Piffle!" Giles spat out.

"What?" Willow said, not believing what she had heard.

" . . piffle? . . ." MacDuffie asked, astonished as well.

"Piffle! It's a perfectly good word!"

"If you say so . . ." Willow said shaking her head.

"Rupert . . . _nobody_ says _piffle!" _MacDuffie proclaimed as he turned to Willow and held up his glass for her to see, "And as for you, Lass, this is a gift from the Great Goddess. When she created the world and all things in it, She had high hopes for humankind. But Her joy quickly turned to sorrow when She saw how ill we treated the rest of Her creation. And so, to remind us, She wept bitterly. These . . ." he said seriously indicating the scotch, ". . . are Her tears."

Willow picked up her glass and stared at the amber liquid.

"So when we partake," MacDuffie continued, "At first we feel the rush of Her joy . . . and then, shortly thereafter, the depths of Her sorrow."

Slowly Willow lifted the glass to her lips. She sipped ever so slightly at the scotch in the glass. Suddenly her face puckered up at the bitter and highly aromatic taste.

"Eeewww!"

For a moment, Giles and MacDuffie stared in silence at Willow.

"Rupert . . . we should be ashamed of ourselves," MacDuffie finally said, shaking his head, "We are a pair of complete and utter baboons!"

MacDuffie stood up and took Willow's glass from her hands.

"My deepest apologies, Lassie."

MacDuffie, his gait a touch uncertain, walked out of the room. In a moment he returned carrying Willow's glass and a bottle of Evian water. Willow and Giles stared up at him from their seats, while MacDuffie loomed over them.

"You both are to be sworn to the utmost secrecy of what is about to occur!" he announced.

"I Swear!" Giles cried out, swaying a little in his seat as he raised his hand in preparation of taking the oath.

"Me, too," Willow grinned.

"Neither of you are to speak or utter a single word of what you are about to witness!"

Giles nodded with an enthusiastic drunkenness. Willow's eyes widened. This was wilder than even she could have imagined.

"For I am Anson," MacDuffie declared to the low ceiling and nobody in particular, "23rd Laird of Clan Mac Du Fie, Guardian of the Watchers and of the Gates of Dawn. If word of this were to leak back to the Clans . . . !"

"We already promised," Willow interrupted.

"Yes, quite right." the old Guardian nodded, "Well, here goes."

MacDuffie set the glass of scotch in front of Willow, opened the water bottle and poured water into the glass of scotch so that it was diluted and now about two thirds full.

"There!" he proclaimed with finality, "The deed is done. Now try."

Willow tentatively picked up the scotch and water and took a small sip. Her face puckered again but nothing like it did with the straight liquor.

"It's still a little bitter," she complained mildly.

"As it and life should be," MacDuffie responded.

Willow sipped some more from her glass as MacDuffie sat back down on his old crate.

"Now . . ." he continued, "where were we?"

"Piffle?" Giles asked.

"No!"

As MacDuffie and Giles bantered back and forth, Willow smiled with affection at both of them, and the scotch began to do its work.

Giles waved his finger in the air.

"I remember!" he proclaimed, "Singing! 'Oh the summer time is a' coming!'"

"Rupert!"

"I like to sing . . ." Giles answered meekly.

"You're not helping!" MacDuffie snapped, "Now what was so important that we were here to discuss?"

"The end of the world?" Willow volunteered gently.

"Right! The end of the world! Now . . ."

MacDuffie suddenly stopped as if the rest of his thoughts were waylaid on the path from his brain to his vocal chords. There were a few moments of silence during which Willow's grin broadened under the influence of the scotch. She looked back and forth shaking her head in amusement at the two drunken men sitting beside her. Then, Giles began singing very quietly. This time his tenor was on key.

"Oh the summer time is a coming . . .   
And the leaves are sweetly turning . . ."

MacDuffie joined him as their two tenors blended in a lyrical rendition of the old Scottish folk tune.

"And the wild mountain thyme,  
Blooms across the purple heather.  
Will ye go, Lassie, will ye go?"

As Willow listened to the song, the grin changed on her face. Her brow furrowed as she sensed the longing in the lyrics. Suddenly, surprising herself, she began singing the second verse in a plaintive gentle soprano. Her voice had an almost childlike sweetness with a twinge of sorrow. While she sang, MacDuffie and Giles turned and stared at her in respectful silence.

"If he will not go with me," she sang slowly and sadly and a little bit drunk,   
"I will surely find another,  
To pull wild mountain thyme,  
All across the purple heather.  
Will ye go, Laddie, will ye go?"

There was another moment of silence. Then all three joined in singing quietly.

"And we'll all go together,  
To pull wild mountain thyme  
All across the purple heather.  
Will ye go, Lassie, will ye go?"

The sound of Willow, Giles and MacDuffie's singing drifted softly through the empty shop.

"And we'll all go together,  
To pull wild mountain thyme,  
All across the purple heather.  
Will ye go, Laddie, will ye go?"

With the song complete, there was another moment of silence. Then the sound of one person clapping and laughing voices rang out from the storeroom.

"Bravo! Bravo! What a beautiful voice!" MacDuffie announced.

"Not bad, eh?" Giles smirked and swayed on his crate.

"Not you, ya drunken yob!"

"Oh, piffle!"

"Hey, guys!" Willow grinned, "What's a girl gotta do ta get a refill around here?"

* * * * * * * * * *

Go To Part 13 


	13. I will surely find another

**The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind**

**Chapter 13  
"I will surely find another . . ."  
  
**_by Gaius Petronius_

DISCLAIMER:  
Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB, Fox and Mutant Enemy, Inc. This story can be read on its own or as a sequel to H. P. Lovecraft's "The Haunter of the Dark" from which the Ancient Ones, the Shining Trapezohedron and the character of Robert Blake are derived.

The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind is set roughly in mid-season four shortly following the death of Doyle but before the creation of Adam and the death of Maggie Walsh.

This part is rated PG-13 for some raunchy language.

* * * * * * *

Darkness hung like an ancient shroud all around Faith. She struggled, unable to see any features or landmarks but only the same deep, impenetrable emptiness everywhere. For a moment, Faith imagined she was floating in the inky blackness surrounding her as she groped her way now backward now forward. Fully dressed in her leather jacket and pants with a white blouse, she finally realized that she was, indeed, standing firmly upright and able to move any way she chose. Her eyes, glowing with their natural rich brown color, were wide open as she searched for any recognizable features in the blank world draped around her.

She was both angry and frightened as she suddenly spun wildly in all directions.

"What the hell is this dump?! . . . " she screamed out at the silence, "Wilkins! You gotta get me outta here!"

She halted for a moment and then remembered something as she yelled out again.

"'B', you bitch," she howled in anger, "You did this! I know you're here somewhere! Where are you!? . . . BUFFY!"

Faith backed up and suddenly was stopped by a physical barrier. She spun around and was confronted by a massive wall of enormous stone blocks. The wall extended both to the left and right as well as upwards beyond the range of her vision. The blocks themselves were roughly cut and a deep gray that almost blended with the blackness swirling all about her.

"Shit! You again!" she cursed as she banged against the structure.

Faith put her hands up palms out against the stones of the wall and began to feel her way along the wall as she searched for its end. The huge blocks, with no breaks, loomed off in one long continuous unending sweep into the darkness. She stared upward and could see no top, only more of the oppressive inky blackness overhead that surrounded her in all directions.

Suddenly, Faith broke out in a rage. At first she kicked the wall again and again and then rained a hail of blows with her fists against the impassive stones. She cursed as each punch matched her words and her flesh struck the immovable barrier.

"Damn! . . .You . . . fucking . . . bastard! . . . Let . . . ME . . . OUTTA . . . HERE!"

Suddenly Faith stopped. Her breath came in rapid bursts while her long black hair hung in disheveled strands across her face. For a moment, she stared in fury at the wall. Then a puzzled look swept across her face as she looked down at her hands. Her assault on the stones normally would have torn her skin and even broken bones, but as she gazed at her hands, not a mark showed on them. She slowly rubbed her fingers together as she struggled to understand what she was seeing.

Faith's anger dissolved away. In its place across her face spread a look of growing despair.

"What the shit is this? . . . " she whimpered almost like a lost child. "Where the hell is everybody? . . ."

She leaned with her back against the wall, then slowly slid down the stones to her knees. As she reached the ground, Faith sat back and, still leaning against the wall, lowered her head.

Suddenly, from somewhere in the darkness, a young woman's voice began speaking. It was very faint and the words indistinguishable, but Faith instantly recognized them from their tone. It was Buffy's voice.

"'B?' 'B!' Where are you!?" Faith cried out.

The voice droned on in a monotone as if it were speaking only to itself. Faith strained to make out the words until suddenly she realized that the sound was coming from beyond the wall on the other side.

Desperately she pressed her face against the gray surface and ran her hands around on the stones as if she were searching for a crack or peep hole to yell through.

"Damn it 'B!'" she cursed again as she pawed at the stones, "I'm here. I'm in here! I'm on the other side!"

As quickly as it appeared, the voice faded away.

"You Bitch!" Faith screamed, "Don't you leave me here! . . . Don't fucking leave me alone! . . . BUFFY!"

The voice, like a distant beacon enveloped in a sudden bank of impenetrable clouds, was gone, and silence descended once more. Faith rubbed off the wetness running down her cheek with the back of her hand.

". . . damn you . . . " she sobbed, " . . . damn you . . ."

Faith huddled motionless against the wall in the darkness. From somewhere out of the eternal night, a soft breeze blew silently and, almost as if the wind were an invisible hand, stirred the shocks of Faith's long black hair that hung across her forehead. She didn't notice but only stared, now silently, at the ground.

Faith's room at Sunnydale Convalescent Hospital was bright with late afternoon sunshine. The window was open and a gentle breeze blew across the room. Faith, dressed in a hospital gown, lay motionless in her bed. She stared blankly ahead, unresponsive to her surroundings even as the wind from outside the window stirred her dark hair. The red in her eyes was even more pronounced than it was earlier that morning.

Buffy sat alone by the side of her bed. She held her former enemy's hand, ever so often gently stroking it and spoke quietly. Faith gave no hint she could hear anything Buffy said.

". . . so I don't know whether it was you . . . or just something from my own head I saw that told me what to do. Doesn't much matter I guess," Buffy confessed.

Buffy looked up and tried to gaze directly into Faith's unseeing blood red eyes.

"I can't imagine what it must be like," she continued softly, "Being like this . . . I think I'd be scared shitless. I mean, I can face vamps and demons, even this thing that's probably gonna kill me tomorrow. But I don't think I could handle . . ."

Buffy stopped in mid sentence as she stared at Faith.

"I'm sorry. I know we hate each other's guts and all but . . . I never wanted _this_ to happen."

Buffy held Faith's hand tightly and messaged it firmly.

"I'm here, Faith. I'm not leaving," Buffy whispered, "I know you must be able to hear me. Follow my voice. I'm not going to let you go."

Faith gave no indication she heard Buffy. Only the breeze still gently shifted a few strands of the comatose Slayer's thick black hair.

*** * * * * * * * ***

Xander's basement bedroom in his parents' house was a scene of total chaos. Every available square inch of space was stacked high with flood lights, spot lights and stage lighting equipment. Wires ran in tangled masses everywhere. Some of the lighting equipment was mounted on metal stands, other lanterns lay loose on the floor and several were plopped in the middle of Xander's bed.

Although Xander himself was nowhere to be seen, there was some rustling and banging over in one corner of the room behind a confusion of wires and mounting stands.

Anya couldn't believe what she saw as she came down the stairs.

"Xander! Xander!" she called out.

She stopped in shock at the foot of the staircase and gazed at the contents of the basement.

"I'm over here," Xander sang out from behind the equipment in the other corner of the room, "I've almost got it finished!"

"What . . . is . . . all . . . this . . . SHIT?!" Anya demanded as she put her hands on her hips.

Xander popped out from the corner of the room. Holding two heavy gauge electrical cables, one with a male plug, the other a female, he appeared to be about to plug them together.

"You know how we're supposed to save Buffy and all?" he said.

"Uh, the world's included in that, too, ya think?" Anya replied

"Yeah, that too," he continued, dismissing her statement without even thinking, "Well if ol' Red Eyes doesn't like light, I figure we set up a defense perimeter of these babies."

Xander patted one of the mounted stage lights affectionately.

"With these bombers around Buffy and the Glow Glob, we just wait'll our 'friend' gets in real close and then . . . Zap! Fries for everybody!"

"What makes you think all this crap is gonna make enough light to . . ." she tried to point out but Xander cut her off.

"Anya, some of this stuff's left over from the Metallica concert at the arena! I got volts here! I got amps! I got watts!"

"Any brains to go with those fries?" Anya announced her voice dripping sarcasm.

"Just watch! I was gonna test it out on Spike, but you can give me an honest opinion."

Xander rammed the two plugs together. Suddenly the room erupted in a blaze of light as all the spots snapped on at once. Anya winced and squinted her eyes.

"Geez Xander!" she shouted, "Turn those things off before . . ."

"Ha HA!" he yelled triumphantly, cutting her off at the same time, "See! Pretty intense, huh! Pretty intimidating, huh!"

Before Anya could reply, one of the spots lying on the bed heated up enough to set the sheets on fire. A second later, the fuse box on the basement wall exploded in a shower of sparks. The power shut off and the spots all blinked out. Smoke and some small rising flames swirled up from the sheets on Xander's bed. Madly he scrambled in the dark with a blanket trying to extinguish the fire in his bed.

". . . you blow every fuse in the house," Anya announced picking up her sentence where she left off.

Xander thrashed with the blanket around the flaming mattress and finally managed to smother the fire on his bed. For a moment he gazed mournfully at the charred circle in the center of the sheets.

"Ya think we gotta boost 'er to 220?" he asked meekly looking back up at Anya.

Anya shook her head and rolled her eyes. Xander studied the big scorch mark in of the sheets.

"You know . . . that's kind of a turn on when you think about it," he said

Anya sighed in complete disgust.

"Aw, come on!" he whined, "The lights are a good idea!"

Anya walked over to Xander. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and smiled at him, using her most seductive voice laced with a phoney sweetness.

"Xander, dear," she cooed.

She leaned forward and kissed him passionately. Xander quickly dropped the charred blanket he was using to smother the flames. He spread his hands around her slender waist. For a moment, they were wrapped tightly in each other's arms. Then they slowly separated.

"You have your little wall of lights all set up," she smiled at him with the look of a gladiator about to dispatch a hapless victim, "But what happens if . . . 'It' just decides . . . to go around?"

Xander, a blank look on his face, stared back at Anya and didn't answer but only blinked.

* * * * * * *

Willow sat by herself on the edge of her bed. She stared straight ahead across the dorm room, her face creased in a wide grin and her eyes half shut. She clearly had one too many at MacDuffie's New Age Shop and was now very drunk. Slowly she started swaying gently as she chattered to herself, her words coming out in one long slurred sentence.

"Ozzo, you bozo, you dingus gonzo, bozo suck dog buhhf . . ." she trailed off.

Willow ran her tongue around the inside of her mouth and then smacked her lips. Her face crinkled at the unpleasant taste.

"Whew! Pissy stuff. I gotta go brush my teeth."

Willow didn't get up from the bed but continued to sway gently. Finally she spoke, half to the empty room and half to herself.

"Oz, you are such a bastard. I shoulda known, . . . " she said, shaking her head so her long hair swayed back and forth, "Red hair, musician _and a wolf._ That definitely equals one grand glorious asshole bastard. . . . that's a good one. I better write that down."

Again Willow was silent and didn't move. After a moment, she began to sing quietly and a tear ran down her cheek.

"If he will not go with me,  
I will surely find another,  
To pull wild mountain thyme,  
All across the purple heather.  
Will ye go, Lassie, will ye go."

Suddenly there was a loud knock at the dorm room door. Willow looked up startled but still swayed.

"YO!' she sang out.

A voice called from the hallway.

"Willow? Is that you?" Tara asked from beyond the closed door.

Willow shouted out again as if she enjoyed the sound of the word.

"YO!"

Tara opened the dorm room door and peered in.

"Hi," she said hesitantly, immediately aware of Willow's odd behavior. "Are you okay?" Tara asked hesitantly.

"Yup yup yup yup yup!" Willow giggled and bounced up and down on the bed.

"I was worried about you. We were supposed to have lunch."

S'okay. Come on in," Willow grinned, waving Tara in and patting the bed beside her, "Come over here. I wanna tell ya somethin'."

Tara entered the room, walked over and sat down beside Willow. Tara sniffed the air and gave Willow a disapproving scowl.

"Whew! What have you been into?" Tara asked as she crinkled her nose.

"The Tears . . . of the Great Goddess!" Willow proclaimed as if her audience numbered in the thousands.

"You got drunk," Tara said shaking her head.

"How'd ja know?"

"What were you drinking?" Tara asked, ignoring Willow's slurred question.

"Scotch! . . ." Willow announced proudly and suddenly frowned at Tara's reprimanding stare, "And we weren't drinking! We were doing . . . _research!_ Me, that old fart, Piles, and Mr. MacMuffie."

"Willow, you're going to be real sick," Tara answered.

"Well, screw that cause I don't care! But I gotta ask you something."

"Yeah?"

Willow paused and cast a worried look at her friend.

"Do you like me?"

Tara was a little taken aback by the question, but she quickly smiled and answered sincerely.

"Of course I like you."

"Good!" Willow said reassured, "'Cause I like you too. That was the easy part. Now, for the big stuff."

"What?" Tara asked gently as she sensed something more was coming than just silly drunken prattle.

". . . do you think you'll always like me?" Willow asked sadly.

"I hope so," Tara answered quietly after a pause as she looked directly into Willow's hazel eyes.

"Final answer?"

Tara gave Willow a little playful shove.

"Stop it!" she said smiling.

"Cause . . . I thought I loved Oz . . ." Willow said slowly and quietly as she looked away for a moment and then stared back at Tara, "And he said he loved me . . . but then . . . he changed . . . and went away and he won't come back."

Willow's grin dissolved as she returned Tara's intense gaze.

". . . does everybody change? . . ." she asked wistfully.

"I don't know. An awful lot do," Tara replied at the same time feeling the weight of her friend's search for reassurance.

"I . . . I gotta tell you this . . . real quick!" Willow said earnestly.

"Why?"

"Well, the room's getting all spinny."

"You gonna barf?"

"Not yet. Soon though. But that's not why. What I wanta say is . . ."

Willow couldn't finish the sentence but only stared sadly at Tara. After a moment, she reached out and wrapped her arms around Tara and buried her face on her friend's shoulder. They remained in each other's embrace for a long time. Willow then slid her head back and moved her face towards Tara's. In an instant their lips met and Willow kissed Tara. They didn't separate immediately but shared the kiss and all of its emotions for a few moments. Finally Tara drew back from Willow and gently stroked away Willow's messed up red hair off her face.

"Hey, you better lie down and get some sleep," Tara whispered.

"But there's so much I wanna tell you."

"Tomorrow," Tara replied as she stroked Willow's face, "When you're feeling better."

Tara gently settled Willow down on the bed. She then got up off the bed and closed the blinds.

"I'll stop by later. You need anything?"

"You're not staying?" Willow asked, her voice now succumbing to drowsiness.

"I got class. I'll be back. I promise."

Willow slipped down into the pillows.

"Okay. . . . " she murmured as she settled in, "Thanks for letting me talk."

"Thanks for saying it," Tara answered so quietly that Willow couldn't hear it.

Tara walked to the dorm room door. She shut off the light and closed the door behind her as she left. In the dim light of the room, a faint voice, like that of a very little girl, drifted from Willow's bed.

"Wheeee! . . . spinny! . . ."

The room was quiet for a moment more.

"Wheeeeeeee! . . . uh oh . . . oohhhh . . .!"

* * * * * * * * *

Go To Part 14 


	14. The Tears of the Goddess

**The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind**

**Chapter 14  
The Tears of the Goddess  
  
**_by Gaius Petronius_

DISCLAIMER:  
Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB, Fox and Mutant Enemy, Inc. This story can be read on its own or as a sequel to H. P. Lovecraft's "The Haunter of the Dark" from which the Ancient Ones, the Shining Trapezohedron and the character of Robert Blake are derived. 

The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind is set roughly in mid-season four shortly following the death of Doyle but before the creation of Adam and the death of Maggie Walsh.

**Content Note:** This part is rated PG-13 for some raunchy language.

* * * * * * * * *

The pace of afternoon activity in the Initiative Headquarters was now even more feverish than it had been that morning although Maggie Walsh was nowhere to be seen. Amidst the Initiative soldiers and technicians scurrying to and fro, a group of six soldiers, including Forrest, Riley's second in command on the squad and Graham, the sub squad leader, all gathered around Hunter and one large monitor set up in the middle of the former operating arena of the Command Center. All their faces were bathed in a look verging on fear as they gazed at the seemingly innocuous numbers rolling across the screen. Every one of the Initiative soldiers knew what those figures meant.

"Holy son of a bitch!" Forrest muttered as he stared at the monitor readout.

Graham just scratched his head and whistled. Riley slipped in from the overhead catwalk entrance to the security checkpoint. Hunter, glancing over his shoulder, instantly spotted him.

"Hey, Riley!" the Initiative technician called out.

Riley turned and stared down onto beehive of activity on the Command Center floor below him.

"You better get your lead ass down here!" Forrest yelled.

Riley ran along the catwalk, clattered down the metal staircase and hurried across the Initiative Headquarters to join the group around the monitor.

"What's up?" he asked.

"Where the hell you been?" Forrest complained, "Damn hard to run a tactical meeting without the squad leader."

"These this morning's infra red readings?" Riley answered ignoring Forrest's griping, "What the . . .?"

Riley leaned forward and studied the monitor.

"Shit! This is for real?" he exclaimed to Hunter, "These have gotta be wrong!"

"No way," Forrest answered for Hunter, "Right off the scale, man . . . this is one big, blazing muther!"

At first Riley couldn't come up with a reply. Finally he spoke under his breath to Forrest.

"Buffy _was_ right . . ."

"That's where the hell you've been?" Graham glowered at Riley, "Hanging out with your girlfriend?"

"Listen to me," Riley answered with a quiet urgency, "We gotta pull all the daylight reconnaissance patrols. They're wasting their time looking for this thing. It's from another dimension, some alternate universe we can't even imagine. It's not even here during the day."

"And that Slayer chick is telling you this?" Forrest sniffed with contempt.

"Buffy knows ten times more about this thing than Maggie does!" Riley felt the anger welling up inside him. Sparring with Maggie Walsh over Buffy was one thing, but he bristled at having to defend her to his own men.

Graham gave Riley a skeptical stare that Riley couldn't let pass.

"I want those reconnaissance patrols pulled now," he said, this time speaking in a military tone none of the other soldiers could possibly mistake for anything except an order, "Every available Initiative soldier is to report to me by eighteen hundred hours. This mission has just changed, mister, from offensive . . . to defensive."

"What's our objective?" Forrest asked, now becoming even more uneasy.

"To keep this thing . . . from wiping us out."

"And you're doing this all on Buffy's word?!" Graham still didn't understand.

"Look at those readings, man!" Riley raised his voice and pointed at the monitor, "We can't go up against that head to head! It's suicide and you know it!"

Graham didn't answer but Forrest nodded in agreement.

"Get the word out quietly," Riley continued in a lowered voice, "I want a tactical meeting in two hours."

"What about Professor Walsh?" Hunter asked nervously.

"You let me handle the Professor. I'll take the heat there."

"You think she'll buy it?" Forrest asked.

"She has to . . . " Riley said solemnly, " . . . or we're all dead."

*** * * * * * * ***

Cordelia stood in the middle of the kitchen at the Chase mansion. She held a portable phone pressed to her ear. Absentmindedly she noticed the auction number tag dangling from the phone's tiny antenna. She really hadn't wanted to call Wesley, but Angel insisted, after Kate's report, that they make sure the "rogue demon hunter" hadn't allowed the office to slide into total chaos. The phone on the other end of the line rang over and over with no answer.

"Come on, Wesley, I know you're there! Pick it up!" she huffed impatiently.

Angel, throwing on his black trench coat as he prepared to head out, entered the kitchen from the living room.

"Still no answer?" he asked.

Cordelia only shook her head.

Back at the office of Angel Investigations, Wesley Windham Price, Rogue Demon Hunter, lay plopped across the papers on the receptionist's desk. His head was nestled in his folded arms, and he snored as the telephone rang at his side. He twitched slightly and muttered in his sleep.

". . . . hmm . . . yes mummy . . . I'll get the door . . ."

Cordelia slammed the receiver down in disgust.

"Angel, this is ridiculous!" she snapped, "I told you an answering machine would be cheaper!"

Angel paid no attention to her remark but headed straight for the outside door.

"Hey! Where are you going? You're not sneaking out on me!" Kate sang out as she entered the kitchen from the living room. Angel stopped.

"I gotta talk to this MacDuffie," he answered, "Giles said he's the only one that knows what's going on here."

"He's that Guardian guy?" Cordelia asked trying to get Angel to volunteer additional information. She could sense he had more on his mind than just finding an old mystic who hung out with Giles, but Angel wouldn't rise to the bait.

"Yeah," he replied curtly.

" . . and . . . ?" Cordelia wasn't going to let him get off that easy. Still Angel didn't answer.

"All right!" she finally sighed, "I'll help you look for Buffy!"

"I'm that obvious, huh?" Angel grinned slightly.

"Angel, you're a vampire. Subtlety is not a vampire thing."

Angel's grin broadened as he turned towards the door again. As he was about to leave the kitchen, Kate zipped up to his side.

"So, I get to finally meet your ex, this Slayer person," she asked sarcastically as if she were going to relish any discomfort she could cause during a reunion.

Angel pretended to ignore her and quickly stepped outside but the LAPD detective was out the door in an instant right behind him.

"Hey! Don't you try and ditch me now!" Cordelia called out as she dropped the portable phone and ran out the kitchen door after them both.

"He does that to you, too, huh!" Kate laughed from outside in the early evening darkness.

*** * * * * * * ***

A single light still burned on MacDuffie's desk but the rest of the New Age Curiosity Shop was dark except for the strange radiance leaking from behind the closed door of the shop storeroom. Giles, almost slumped over, sat behind the desk. He held his head and shielded his eyes from the light of the desk lamp.

MacDuffie, carrying two large mugs of black coffee, walked unsteadily over to his side. The Guardian sat clumsily on one of the old crates pulled out of the storage room and set one mug of coffee in front of Giles. Giles barely moved as if he didn't recognize who was seated beside him.

". . . ohh . . . what the bloody hell did we do that for?" he groaned.

"Don't ask questions," MacDuffie answered as he rubbed his forehead, "Just drink up."

Both men nursed the black coffee. Suddenly, Giles' head popped up as he remembered more of the details of the afternoon "research" session.

". . . oh Good Lord!" he cried out, "Willow!"

"Relax, Rupert," MacDuffie replied, still massaging his aching forehead, "She's all right. She's with . . . a friend." The old Guardian smiled reassuringly.

"How do you know?" Giles snapped and then caught himself, ". . . Oh . . . yes . . . I see. I suppose that's one of the fringe benefits of being a Guardian?"

MacDuffie nodded and stared straight ahead.

"You know, we are despicable," Giles said with regret, "Getting Willow drunk like that."

"She'll be fine," MacDuffie answered calmly.

Giles, sensing there was more to his friend's statement than was revealed in the simple three word sentence, stared at MacDuffie.

"You see something else, don't you. . . . about Willow."

MacDuffie stood slowly and turned to face Giles.

"Rupert, you and I, we cannot remain as their protectors forever," he answered solemnly, "The time is coming when all of this is passed on to the next generation."

"But what about Willow? You know something!" Giles asked, his voice quivering with concern, "What do you see for her?"

"Put your heart to rest, good friend," he answered as he patted Giles gently on the shoulder, "All will be well."

The shop was silent for a moment, and then MacDuffie spoke once more but this time in a whisper.

". . . all . . . will be well . . ."

*** * * * * * ***

Willow and Buffy's dorm room was empty, its curtains tightly drawn leaving the entire room in darkness. Somewhere down the corridor on the main floor, a toilet flushed for the third time. That was followed a moment later by the noisy sound of running water in one of the community bathroom's sinks. Somebody gargled, spat out a mouthful of water and groaned. The door to the third floor bathroom squeaked and then snapped shut.

Suddenly the door to Willow and Buffy's room swung open. Tara entered with a clearly unstable Willow draped over Tara's shoulder. Tara steadied her on her feet and steered Willow towards her bed.

"Oh, am I glad you came back," Willow whimpered.

Tara lowered Willow into a sitting position on the bed.

"It's all right," she said reassuringly, "Now you've barfed, you'll be okay."

"You gonna stay?" Willow looked up at her hopefully.

"Yeah," Tara said quietly as she ran her fingers across Willow's hair, pushing the disheveled strands back into place. How could she leave now, she thought. After her friend's earlier emotional confession as well as the recent round of commode hugging in the dorm bathroom down the hall, she knew Willow needed her.

"Oohhh!" Willow groaned.

Tara sat beside her in the bed and continued to stroke her hair.

"Just lie down . . . slowly!" she encouraged as Willow settled back into the pillows.

"Oohh! I'm gonna kill Giles . . . " Willow complained as she rubbed her face with her hands, "And that stinkin' MacDuffie, too! Oh, man!"

"Relax, I've got some herb tea here that'll make you feel better, but we have to wait until your body recovers a little more from the Goddess' tears." Tara's voice was so soothing, Willow almost missed the reference. Puzzled, she looked up at Tara.

"That's what Mr. MacDuffie called it."

"I know. You told me." Tara paused and looked down at the floor. "He's a Guardian, isn't he?" she asked hesitantly.

The question caught Willow entirely by surprise. At the same time she winced as the splitting hangover headache raced across her forehead.

"Oh man! . . . " she whimpered then stared up at Tara again, "How'd you know that?"

Tara only shrugged.

"He trusts you," she answered softly, "He has a lot of faith in you . . . just like me."

"That's why he got me drunk?"

"_He offered you_ the tears of the Goddess," Tara said earnestly. She suddenly realized that Willow didn't fully understand what the "research" session was really all about.

"We were drinking scotch! Ohhh! Which I will never do again!" Willow moaned and winced again with the hangover headache.

"I'm so lucky," Tara said, the sweet sincerity of her voice caught Willow's attention immediately, in spite of the ravages of the hangover.

"What?" Willow asked, now totally confused, "Because you have a barfing bunny for a friend?"

"No. You know what I mean," Tara smiled self consciously as she stroked Willow's hair again, "Something special happened today. And I don't mean just between us."

"Tara, what's going on?" Willow asked as she winced, "You're saying something happened this afternoon at the shop?"

Tara nodded to her.

"Willow, Guardians, although they're real powerful, actually they're just like you and me. They don't live forever, and at the end they pass on their duties and powers."

Willow, with concern on her face, looked up at Tara.

"When they know the time is near," Tara continued slowly, "They find someone with the Gift, share the Tears of the Goddess and then . . . when it actually happens . . . when they . . . die . . . that's when they pass their powers on."

"What are you saying?" Willow asked fearfully.

"It sounds like," Tara answered very slowly and gently, "Your friend, Mr. MacDuffie . . . well, I think he's getting ready to leave."

"NO!" Willow shouted as she sat up quickly.

The headache kicked in again. Willow grabbed her forehead and flopped back down on the bed.

"Ahhh! Owww!"

* * * * * * * *

Go To Part 15 


	15. Mr Softee

**The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind**

**Chapter 15  
Mr. Softee  
  
**_by Gaius Petronius_

DISCLAIMER:  
Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB, Fox and Mutant Enemy, Inc. This story can be read on its own or as a sequel to H. P. Lovecraft's "The Haunter of the Dark" from which the Ancient Ones, the Shining Trapezohedron and the character of Robert Blake are derived. 

The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind is set roughly in mid-season four shortly following the death of Doyle but before the creation of Adam and the death of Maggie Walsh.

**Content Note:** This part is rated PG-13 for some raunchy language.

* * * * * * * * *

The curtains in Faith's room at Sunnydale Convalescent Hospital were still wide open, but now, instead of the bright California sun pouring through the window, the shades of evening's deepening darkness obscured the view of the outside world.

Inside, a bedside lamp cast soft illumination over Faith who lay comatose and Buffy, still maintaining her vigil by the side of the bed. For a long time, Buffy sat silently only staring at Faith's face, searching for some sign of recognition or hint that Faith was aware of her surroundings. She found none.

Buffy cast a nervous glance over her shoulder at the darkness that now filled the window and, in her imagination, threatened to spill into the room overwhelming both her and Faith.

In another kind of night that Buffy couldn't sense, Faith still lay huddled against the massive wall that disappeared into the impenetrable black landscape looming all directions around her. Although her face showed evidence of recent tears, her eyes were wide as she strained to listen.

Buffy was beyond the wall somewhere; Faith knew she was there. Buffy's voice drifted faintly, almost flowed like trickles of moisture seeping through the massive grey blocks. This time the words were understandable.

In the hospital room, Buffy reached out, took Faith's hand and massaged it.

"I'm sorry I have to tell you this," she said softly, "Somebody should and I guess I'm the one. . . . we killed him, Faith. We had to."

As Faith listened to Buffy's voice, the effect was almost the same as when Buffy plunged the knife into her abdomen. She breathed heavily and shivered while her mind raced.

"Mayor Wilkins is dead," Buffy's words drifted through the stones, "We stopped the Ascension. 'Course we blew away the school doing it but . . . hey. Collateral damage as Riley calls it."

Faith grinned slightly at the irony of Buffy's remark.

"When I was still unconscious in the hospital, I dreamed I was talking to you," Buffy continued quietly as she massaged Faith's hand, " We were in your apartment. I think there was a cat we were talking about or something. I know I mentioned this before and I got no clue whether any of it was real or not. But I guess it must have been 'cause . . . you told me the Mayor's weakness."

As Faith leaned against the gray all encompassing wall, she stared down at her hand as if she could sense Buffy massaging it. Her face betrayed her mental struggle to remember whether the dream encounter with Buffy actually happened.

"Buffy, don't talk so fast! I can't remember!" Faith suddenly cried out.

"'Course it could've just been my own guilty conscience," Buffy's words, oblivious to the comatose Slayer's silent plea, continued to drift around Faith.

Suddenly, she sat bolt upright against the cold stones, her brown eyes wide with life. A fragment of memory, like a tiny beacon in the night, returned to her.

"'Aren't these things supposed to take care of themselves . . . ?' she exclaimed to the darkness. "Yes! The cat! I remember the stupid cat!"

Buffy still stroked Faith's unmoving hand as she spoke quietly.

"But if it _was_ you . . ." Buffy continued in the hospital gazing at Faith's expressionless face, "Well, I guess then . . .you sorta saved us all. After everything you did, to me, Angel, Willow, Giles . . . It was you . . . that saved the world."

Faith stared up at the wall imprisoning her. For the first time there was a look of hope on her face. Buffy's words drifted all around her, loud and unmistakable.

"I want to believe it so much . . . that it was you that saved us."

"'B' I'm here! Buffy!" Faith yelled as she leaped to her feet.

Turning to face the wall, Faith raised her hand and firmly placed it palm first against the gray stones. As a breeze rose stirring her black hair, suddenly her hand passed through the mass of rock as if it had no substance. Her eyes widened in amazement, and she cried out again.

"Buffy! Grab my hand!"

As Buffy gently rubbed Faith's hand, the fingers of the comatose Slayer began to quiver. Immediately Buffy sensed the change occurring in front of her. She took Faith's hand firmly in hers and held tightly. Suddenly, Faith's hand spun in Buffy's grasp and latched onto her wrist. A soft night breeze blew through the open window, stirring the curtains.

Without thinking, Faith threw herself against the massive gray blocks. Her body wavered in the darkness and then dissolved and, like a morning mist sliding through the leaves of the trees, passed beyond the stone barrier restraining her.

Buffy gasped and tried to draw her hand back from Faith's unrelenting grasp. All at once, consciousness and recognition returned to Faith. She stared out with her red eyes at Buffy who, in a state of shock, didn't immediately respond.

". . . Faith? . . ." she finally stammered.

". . . hey, 'B' . . ."

"Hang on! I'm gonna go get the nurse!" Buffy said urgently as she pulled herself free from Faith's grasp.

"NO!" Faith cried out, "I only got a couple of seconds here!"

Buffy stopped and knelt down by the side of the bed up near Faith's head so she could hear better.

". . . the cat . . ." Faith struggled to speak. After months of silence, her words were almost slurred but Buffy could not mistake their meaning.

"It was me, Buffy . . . " Faith murmured, "I told you 'I thought these things were supposed to take care of themselves . . .'"

Buffy's eyes widened as the impact of Faith's words sank in. Their dream conversation came back to Buffy in a rush and her heart surged. She imagined this must be what it was like to search for one so long presumed dead and then suddenly and unexpectedly find them alive. Buffy smiled broadly but her eyes also glistened with building emotion.

". . . Faith . . ." she said gently as she felt her lips tremble.

"Don't get all sappy on me!" Faith cracked back at her, "I'm still gonna beat the shit outta you when this is all over."

Buffy grinned despite a single tear now running down her cheek.

"Faith, it's gonna be okay," Buffy tried to be reassuring but Faith cut her off immediately.

"Shut up and listen, Buffy," Faith said intently, "I may not get another chance to talk, so listen good. There's something in there with me. I can't see it. It won't show itself. It's lurking just out of sight."

"Easy, Faith, easy," Buffy replied, putting her hand on Faith's shoulder, "It's just in your mind. You've been here all the time."

"Will you shut up and listen you ditz!" Faith cried out with a mixture of anger and despair, "It's . . . oh, shit!"

Suddenly Faith's red pupils widened. Buffy stared astonished. Before her eyes she saw Faith, the "consummate bitch" as Willow called her, Faith the toughest and most unfeeling person she could imagine, Faith the evil one, the "rogue," Faith, the fallen slayer, begin to cry profusely.

"Faith?" Buffy stammered.

"No!. . . not yet! Don't put me back in there!. . . " Faith wailed, "Give me a fucking chance, man!"

"Faith, what's happening?" Buffy begged.

Buffy felt the despair strike her straight to the heart as Faith's voice suddenly faded away.

". . . catch ya later, 'B.'"

Faith's head dropped forward as the last traces of consciousness and rationality slid away from her face. Her blood red eyes resumed their vacant stare.

"Faith!"

Once more, Faith suddenly found herself kneeling in the darkness against the stones of the massive wall. The breeze that had stirred her hair just before she awoke, now quickly died away. In fury, she struck the wall with her fist.

"Damn you! Damn you! Damn you!"

In desperation, Buffy grabbed Faith by the shoulders and gave her a gentle shake, trying to stir the now comatose slayer back to consciousness.

"Faith! Talk to me!"

To Buffy's surprise, Faith responded but her voice was hollow and emotionless.

". . . and . . . who . . . are . . . you . . ." she recited blankly.

Buffy slowly released her hold on Faith's shoulders. With a look of horror on her face, she let Faith's inert body slide back gently into the pillows. The curtains in the window, which moments before waved gently in the breeze, now suddenly were still.

". . . no . . . " Buffy whispered, her voice quivering, "You have to come back . . . please . . . "

" . . and . . . who . . . are . . . you . . ." Faith murmured as she stared out at nothing.

*** * * * * * ***

"I'm completely insane . . .!" Kate announced rhetorically as she shook her head and waved her arms in the air. The LAPD detective stalked back and forth in MacDuffie's New Age Curiosity Shop like a newly caged animal.

Angel and Cordelia paid no notice having experienced Kate's fits of temper before but Giles and MacDuffie stared at her in total confusion. Clearly this law enforcement officer was serious enough but it was her self deprecating tone of voice that underlay all the bluster that had them off balance. Giles and MacDuffie didn't know what to expect from Kate, whether she was about to serve them with a parking ticket, clamp them in handcuffs or haul them off into the back alley and have them summarily executed.

"Lt. Lockley, I assure you that . . ." Giles sputtered. He felt ashamed because he knew he sounded like Wesley.

"No, that's the only answer that makes any sense here," Kate snapped back interrupting him, "I just sat on an orange crate for twenty minutes listening to stuff I usually hear from delusional alchies in the drunk tank . . . " she pointed her finger at Angel and Cordelia as she continued ". . . and instead of arresting _you two_ and hauling you back to LA . . . I'm actually starting to believe all this bull shit. . . . so that's got to be the answer. I've finally flipped!"

Kate glowered directly at Angel who couldn't help but smile. She was kind of cute when she was pissed off he thought. Reckless and probably dangerous but cute nonetheless.

"And you!" she shouted at Angel, shaking the vampire out of his reverie, "Every time I follow you, the nightmare just gets worse and worse." In the next instant, Kate turned to Cordelia as if looking for some kind of sympathy. "How do you deal with this shit?"

"Welcome to my life," Cordelia smiled calmly and shrugged her shoulders.

"Why the hell _do_ I listen to you?!" Kate announced to Angel.

Cordelia opened her mouth to answer but Angel cast her a stern glance.

"Shut up, Cordelia," he said brusquely.

Cordelia held her tongue but at the same time flashed a devilish grin.

Kate realized she was getting nowhere with Angel and Cordelia. They had spent enough time in Los Angeles working with her to know all her tricks. Frustrated once again that the situation developing was completely beyond her control, Kate decided to vent her wrath on the two "Brits" that somehow must be the cause of all the chaos she felt swirling up to overwhelm her.

"And you!" she spun on the old Guardian, her voice dripping sarcasm, "You're the biggest pistachio in the nut bin. How am I supposed to warn the authorities about what you've told me? I can just imagine what _that conversation_ would sound like . . ."

Kate put her hand to her face and ear in a perfect pantomime of someone speaking into a telephone receiver. She shook her head, tossing back her blond hair off her shoulders as if she were engaged in the most casual discussion imaginable.

"'Hi, Governor?'" she popped off, all phoney pert and perky, "'This is Lt. Katherine Lockley, LAPD. We need units of the CA national guard sent to Sunnydale immediately. Yeah, right! As many as you got.** . . . **What for? . . . Seems there's some monster with three eyes . . .'"

"One eye, three lobes," MacDuffie interrupted, clarifying the numbers by holding up his fingers.

"'Right, Guv, you hear what he said?'" Kate continued without missing a beat, "'Yeah, one eye, three lobes. It shoots balls of fire from its eye, too. Incinerates anything in its path. It's got a bunch of buddies and they're all gonna end the world on Cinquo de Mayo! Hello? . . . . Guv? You still with me here?'"

Kate stared at her fingers in a perfect imitation of a clueless "Rogue Demon Hunter" who has just been hung up on. Then, dropping the charade, she glared at MacDuffie.

"You don't leave me a lot of options," she said sternly. Everyone in the room could tell immediately that now she wasn't kidding around.

"That's because I have few to offer," MacDuffie answered as calmly as he could.

Kate, her hands placed firmly on her hips, still glared at MacDuffie.

"Lieutenant," he finally sighed, "If you disbelieve what you have just heard, then the door is right there."

MacDuffie pointed to the front entrance of the shop. Kate glanced over at the open door, then back at the shopkeeper.

"Okay, just say for a minute that I buy into this," she finally said, giving up some ground, "What _are_ the options? And what do _I_ do here?"

"As we have already explained," MacDuffie explained patiently, "The Ancient Ones will complete their transmigration into this universe by drawing out the life powers of a Slayer, channeling them through the Shining Trapezohedron and thus forcing open the rupture between their prison in the Void and our world."

"That's how we lose," Kate said sharply, trying to get to the point, "How do we win?"

"That same Slayer directs her life powers through the Shining Trapezohedron _against _the Ancient Ones," Giles picked up the explanation, "Thus closing up the tear between the two universes. With any luck, her soul will escape to this world in the millisecond before it is sealed up in the Void forever."

MacDuffie turned his glance to Giles.

"Either way, . . ." the Guardian announced with a quiet finality, "The Slayer will die."

*** * * * * * * * ***

Buffy still sat quietly by Faith's bed in the Sunnydale Convalescent Hospital. Faith's blood red eyes were now closed as if she were too exhausted to expend the energy needed to keep them open. Buffy nervously studied the open window and the night lurking beyond. Finally, she took Faith's hand in hers once again and spoke to the comatose Slayer.

"Listen, I gotta split for a while to do patrol," she said quietly, her tone of voice uneasy, "There's something out there real bad that's coming tomorrow night but I promise, I'll be back as quick as I can."

Faith gave no sign she understood what Buffy had said. Buffy waited for a few moments, gazing at Faith and searching for any indication that her words had somehow penetrated the veil that had descended over the fallen slayer. Finally, with no indication forthcoming, Buffy rose to leave and as she turned away from the bed she stopped for a second, then faced Faith once more. She leaned down quickly and, as she did months earlier in the hospital after their brief words exchanged in a dream, Buffy kissed Faith gently on the forehead.

Buffy then straightened up, looked at Faith for just a moment more and then quickly left the room.

*** * * * * ***

Faith lay on the ground huddled against the wall's dark gray stones. Her eyes were closed, and she let out a small sob. Suddenly she sucked in her breath and froze in place as she sensed movement just beyond the range of her vision. She squinted, searching in vain in the darkness surrounding her. Slowly, subtly, the color of the void to her left began to shift from an inky black to a deep rich blood red.

She instantly jumped to her feet and assumed a defensive stance.

"All right! I've had it!" she yelled at the coalescing crimson shape, "Get your ass out here where I can see you!"

A cheery, familiar voice rang out of the darkness. On first hearing it, Faith smiled with relief but suddenly the look on her face changed from happiness to skepticism and finally fear. Back against the wall, she would not drop her defenses.

It was the sarcastic voice of Mayor Wilkins.

"Hello, Faith! Long time."

"Mayor Wilkins? Is that you?" Faith still refused to believe her ears.

"You were expecting Mr. Softee?" An image in the crimson cloud grinned at her.

From out of the blood red darkness, Mayor Wilkins stepped into view. He was his usual nattily attired self sporting a light colored suit. His body was now clearly visible but his head remained indistinct and obscured as if the area comprising his face were badly out of focus.

Faith knew immediately something was wrong with the image appearing before her.

"Buffy said you were dead," Faith said suspiciously.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Faith . . ." the blurred image of Wilkins answered, "My dear girl are you going to believe . . . Buffy? . . . or your own eyes?"

Faith didn't answer but stood motionless, her fists raised in front of her.

"Well . . . ?" the Mayor was clearly growing impatient, "Faith, I'm hurt! You would take Buffy's word over mine?"

"No. I'd do anything you . . . I mean the Mayor wanted," Faith frowned shaking her head, "But you see, Buffy's a Miss Goody Two Shoes. She doesn't lie."

The image of the Mayor wavered in silence.

"That's the way I always skunked her," Faith continued, her bravado quickly surging to the surface, "She's so predictable. Always rushing to defend the 'innocent.' Letting you know exactly what she's gonna do. . . . and not lying about it."

There was another pause as the whirling redness around the image of the Mayor intensified.

". . . Buffy said Mayor Wilkins is dead" Faith declared through gritted teeth, ". . . so who the shit are you?"

"We don't have all the time in the world here," the Mayor's image growled, "We need you to do something for us. It would have been more satisfying if you had given in willingly but that doesn't matter. The Ancient Ones will take what is theirs."

Suddenly the face of the Mayor came into sharp focus. It was not a face at all but rather a single eye divided into three lobes, all blazing red with a searing fire inside. The Mayor's neck quickly extended, lengthening so that it took on snake-like proportions. A pair of skin webbed wings rose up from out of his back. In an instant, what was once Mayor Wilkins assumed the form of Nyarlethotep, The Haunter of the Dark.

"You will surrender your Slayer's life force to the Ancient Ones!" it hissed in a hideous whisper.

In a second, the Eye lurched towards Faith. With lightening reflexes she spun on a single leg, connecting a well placed kick against the advancing Eye at the end of the serpent like neck. The blow struck home, sending Nyarlethotep jerking back out of the range of Faith's arms and legs.

"Bitch!" it growled in a disembodied voice, "None have dared strike me in almost two thousand years!"

"Snuggle up to me like that again," Faith swaggered several steps forward, "And I'll give you another reminder!"

"You will do as the Ancient Ones command!" the sound seemed to roar all around her.

Suddenly, the image of Nyarlethotep streaked forward at Faith. Before she could strike out in defense the Preparer of the Way dissolved into a stream of vapor that poured into her body. Faith dropped her defensive stance and writhed in agony.

"NO! You bastard! NO!" she howled.

Faith spun on her heels, shaking back and forth as if the motion could somehow throw the invader out of her body. She clawed at her face over and over.

"NO! Buffy!" she cried out in despair, "'B,' where the hell are you!? Help me! PLEASE HELP ME!"

Faith twisted wildly, wrestling with the entity that had invaded her body. She spun closer and closer to the massive stone barrier. Finally, she toppled backwards against the gray wall and, in an instant, her physical form passed through the solid rock.

In her room in the Sunnydale Convalescent Hospital, Faith's eyes snapped open revealing only a searing blood red around the pupils. She screamed out loud.

Her wail rang out like the cries of the other convalescent hospital patients Buffy and Giles heard on their earlier visit. Faith's shriek slowly faded away into a long agonized moan. A night staffer passing by paused at the open door to Faith's room and peered in. Seeing Faith still in bed, the staff member moved on to the next room on her rounds.

Alone, Faith whimpered in the darkness.

*** * * * * * ***

**Go To Part 16**


	16. Run Like Hell!

**The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind**

**Chapter 16  
"Run like Hell!"  
  
**_by Gaius Petronius_

DISCLAIMER:  
Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB, Fox and Mutant Enemy, Inc. This story can be read on its own or as a sequel to H. P. Lovecraft's "The Haunter of the Dark" from which the Ancient Ones, the Shining Trapezohedron and the character of Robert Blake are derived.

The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind is set roughly in mid-season four shortly following the death of Doyle but before the creation of Adam and the death of Maggie Walsh.

**Content Note:** This part is rated PG-13 for a little raunchy language.

* * * * * * * * * *

Riley stood alone in the middle of a sealed empty room deep in the bowels of the Initiative complex. After much persuasion and trading of perks and favors, Hunter had finally gained him access to Room Alpha 237. For the past two weeks, Riley came here intermittently without the knowledge of Maggie Walsh or anyone else in the Initiative beyond Hunter. Now, Riley stared silently straight ahead as if he were hypnotized.

A massive panel of controls and indicator readouts all positioned around a large screen monitor in the center covered virtually the entire wall facing him. The image of a middle aged man in his mid-fifties seated behind a plain desk in a room equally as barren as the one Riley now stood in flickered back at him. The figure on the screen wore a conservative but extremely expensive suit. His grey hair was thinning across the top of his head. Across the bottom of the monitor screen ran a line of random white letters and symbols on a menu bar. Centered within the meaningless letters was a series of symbols spelling, AURELIUS. The letters stood out like a drop of red blood on a field of white snow.

The bluish gray light emitted by the monitor screen provided the only source of illumination in the darkness. It bathed Riley in a dull, steely color, giving the young initiative soldier's skin an almost corpse like pallor.

Finally, the unnamed man spoke carefully, deliberately and without the slightest trace of emotion.

"Agent Finn. The Committee has reviewed your report . . . and authorizes your proposed plan of action."

"Thank you, sir," Riley replied dully and without any enthusiasm.

"Remember your objective, Agent," the voice from the monitor continued, "You must salvage what you can of the Initiative . . . and the Project."

"Yes, sir. Sir?" Riley looked up at the screen and tried desperately to conceal any sense of hope or even pleading that his voice might have betrayed, "Can we look for any assistance from the conventional military?"

". . . The Initiative . . ." the voice replied after a moment, "Does not exist. . . . I'm sorry, Finn."

"Understood, sir," Riley responded mustering his best military voice, but inside his heart sank. They were on their own.

"There will be no further communication," the man on the monitor announced with a finality that made Riley shudder.

The image on the monitor winked out leaving only the line of meaningless characters with the word AURELIUS in the center extending across the screen. In an instant, that too flickered away leaving Riley standing alone in the darkness.

*** * * * ***

Giles sat at MacDuffie's desk in the New Age Curiosity Shop and searched through several large worn leather volumes in front of him.

MacDuffie paid no attention to his companion but stood across the ill-lit shop at the front window. He stared out into the quiet early evening darkness. There were few cars on the street in this seedier section of Sunnydale even though the night was barely new.

"Rupert, you've been poring over Lecritis for close to two hours now," MacDuffie said, not taking his gaze from the street in front of the window.

Giles sat back and ran his hand through his thinning hair.

"I know . . ." he answered sighing, "But it's in here somewhere."

"The way to save her . . . ?"

". . . yes . . ." Giles replied after a pause.

"I see now the Council's evaluation of you and your Slayer . . . it was accurate," MacDuffie mused, still not taking his gaze from the scene outside the shop, "Buffy . . . she _is_ like a daughter to you."

"And what of it?" Giles snapped defensively.

"Rupert . . . I only said it was accurate . . . their interpretation of the situation and recommended course of action were ludicrous."

Giles, relieved, smiled back at MacDuffie.

"What do _you_ plan to do?" Giles finally asked.

"Keep watch over the Shining Trapezohedron," MacDuffie said calmly as he continued to study every detail of the street outside the window, "Stand guard over all of you . . . and wait."

"Not much of plan," Giles said quietly but there was no criticism in his voice.

"You're the logical one, Rupert. Always planning, always preparing."

"And you, the intuitive one," Giles answered, "You believe in the prophecies and yet, in your actions, ignore them every day."

"I prefer to face things as they happen," MacDuffie nodded as he agreed with Giles' assessment.

"That little vision ability of yours . . . " Giles said, "It does give a Guardian a bit of an advantage."

MacDuffie shook his head and as he spoke, Giles instantly recognized the words of Hamlet.

"Not a whit," MacDuffie recited almost casually, "'We defy augury. There's special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, 'tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet . . . it will come.'"

MacDuffie turned away from the window back to face Giles.

"'The _readiness_ . . . is all,'" he concluded firmly.

For a moment, neither men spoke. Suddenly, the sound of a small truck pulling up to the curb broke the silence. Giles stood up from the desk and joined MacDuffie at the window. Both watched for a few moments as the noise of slamming truck doors and the clanking of metal on metal filled the shop. Finally, Giles sighed and shook his head.

" . . Xander . . ." he muttered to himself.

Giles turned away from the window and walked towards the front door, followed by MacDuffie as both headed out into the street.

Outside, the buildings all around the shop were run down and the sidewalk and street scattered with loose litter that occasionally blew in the wind. To the left of the shop sat Big A's Camera and Photo, a business more akin to a pawn shop than a specialty photography store. To the right, an open dumpster, almost full, was visible down the alley which paralleled the side of the building housing MacDuffie's shop.

A small delivery truck had just pulled up and parked directly in front of the shop. The parking job was worse than sloppy and a little frightening with the truck's right front wheel sitting up on the curb, the bumper inches away from a fire hydrant. The rear door to the truck's cargo box swung open, exposing to view an entire load of stage lighting, stands, spots, floods and halogen lamps.

Xander scrambled around the rear of the truck unloading the mountains of lighting equipment and positioning the light stands so that the beams would be focused on a area in the street directly in front of the shop. Anya, her arms full of extension cables, played out a series of cords across the sidewalk towards where Giles and MacDuffie were standing. As she passed the two men and entered the shop, she snapped at them through the rounds of cable hanging over her shoulder that almost obscured her face.

"Excuse me!"

Giles stepped aside as Anya slipped through the shop door, then poked her head back out.

"You got 220 in here, right?" she asked brusquely.

"The socket in the back wall by the storage closet," MacDuffie answered without batting an eye.

Anya nodded, and her head disappeared back into the shop.

Giles couldn't take the rapidly expanding zone of chaos emanating from Xander's truck.

"Xander, what in blazes are you doing?"

"Hey, Book Men," was his cheery response, "Give me a hand here."

MacDuffie and Giles joined Xander, receiving lamps and stands as he passed them out of the truck.

"The way I see it," Xander announced as he lowered a spot to Giles, "if Mr. Icky hates light, when he comes to fetch your shining trapezowhatzit, ZAP!"

Xander formed a fist as if he were compressing a joy stick and made a popping noise with his mouth. He then passed a second lamp to MacDuffie.

"This'll be our big time defense perimeter," he grinned proudly.

"There is a quaint logic to it," MacDuffie grinned at Giles.

Giles cast a skeptical scowl at both MacDuffie and Xander.

"Listen, you guys got your books," Xander explained with his arms full of wires and a control panel, "Buffy's got her fists. Willow's the spell girl. Me, I'm gonna do my thing and be army guy."

MacDuffie nodded as he began to understand Xander's strategy.

"Used at a critical moment," he explained to Giles, "These could set Nyarlethotep off guard and buy us time."

Giles sighed, as he gave in to the growing pile of Xander's lighting equipment building up on the sidewalk.

"What do you want us to do?" Giles asked as he resigned himself to another hour of what he considered sheer Scoobie lunacy.

Xander pointed to a specific set of lights, floods and their accompanying stands.

"We got to position all these spots along the sidewalk here so they make a wall of light in front of the shop."

"What if it comes at us from the back?" Giles asked, still deeply skeptical.

"Ah Ha!" Xander announced, "You thought I wouldn't have the smarts to think of that!"

"Did you?" Giles deadpanned him.

Anya poked her head out of the front door of the shop.

"You didn't," she called out.

"Right! . . . Wait . . . Anya? What were we supposed to do?"

"Put more lights in the alley and around back," Anya sang out from inside the shop, "And point some up in the air. It does fly."

"See! Just like she said!" Xander exclaimed at the same time pointing at a set of lights. "We mount up these floods to cover the alley and this third bank takes care of the back of the building."

"And point some up in the air?" Giles asked without enthusiasm.

"Yeah. . . . didn't I just say that?" Xander replied, a control panel firmly under his muscled arm as he jumped down from out of the bed of the truck. He quickly crossed the sidewalk and entered the shop, Giles and MacDuffie following behind. Once inside, Xander set the control panel on a table near the front window and started fiddling with the mounds of wires Anya had spread out across the floor and nearby counters.

"I can activate each bank of lights or the whole wahzoo all at once with this little baby," Xander announced confidently, although the tangle of wires and equipment still had Giles unconvinced.

"Impressive," MacDuffie nodded. Giles only shook his head.

"Well, you both seem to have things well under control here," he said with a touch of sarcasm in his voice as he turned toward the shop door to leave, "I'm heading back to my apartment. I want to cross reference a few of these. You'll let me know if anything develops."

MacDuffie, now studying the mounds of wiring, only nodded perfunctorily towards Giles, who picked up the small leather volume of Lecritis.

"I'm going to borrow this for a little while, Anson. Yours has better annotation than my copy."

"Keep it," MacDuffie replied flatly as if the book had no value to him anymore.

Giles stared at MacDuffie who only watched impassively as Xander and Anya dragged electrical cables around the shop. Giles was about to speak, to ask what was passing through the old Guardian's mind, but he thought better of it and, with the book in his hand, left by the front door. With an effort of will, Giles restrained himself from looking back as he left.

For a few moments after Giles was gone, MacDuffie didn't move. Finally he walked slowly over to a wall cabinet in the shop near the door to the back store room where the Shining Trapezohedron was hidden. The pulsating light leaking through the cracks in the door cast bizarre streaks of illumination across his expressionless face.

Anya caught his movement out of the corner of her eye. She ceased yanking on the tangled pile of cabling at her feet and stared at MacDuffie as he began to fumble with the padlock on the cabinet. Xander, noticing she wasn't helping anymore, eyed her with a puzzled expression.

"Anya?" he called out and when she didn't respond, he dropped his fistful of wires and followed her.

Gathering her courage, Anya strode over to stand near MacDuffie. The streaks of illumination from the storeroom poured the colors of an unknown spectrum across both their faces.

"If Petronius and Alexandros threw it in the sea," she asked quietly, "Why is it here now?"

"An Arab fisherman snagged it in his nets years later," MacDuffie answered, and Anya thought he somehow now looked far older than she imagined, as if he had lived and died many lifetimes in many different forms.

Slowly MacDuffie pulled off the padlock and opened the wall cabinet. Inside, hanging from a hook in the compartment, was a small short sword resting in a worn black leather scabbard.

"The time is near," the Guardian whispered as if speaking to the sword itself as he lifted it off the wall, "I never dreamed I would actually see this day."

"What is that thing?" Xander asked, his curiosity now aroused by something familiar about the antique weapon.

MacDuffie didn't answer but drew the sword out of the leather sheath. He held it in his upturned palms out in front of him with the care one would use for an object that was both precious and irreplaceable. However, there was nothing distinguishing about the weapon. The hilt was wrapped in plain leather and unornamented, the sword stained with tarnish and in places badly pitted with corrosion. The blade itself was dull and deeply notched up and down its length with a particularly large chip about midway up. It's overall condition would render it largely useless as a weapon. Nevertheless, Xander was still strangely drawn to it.

"You like it?" MacDuffie asked Xander.

"Yeah. It's pretty cool," Xander nodded in admiration, "A little beat, but I bet it's seen some action."

"That it has, Laddie," MacDuffie replied as he offered the blade to Xander, "Would you like to hold it?"

"Sure!" he answered quietly but with enthusiasm.

MacDuffie extended his arms and passed the sword to Xander. Xander took the weapon in his hands and held it out upright in front of him. He then moved the sword slowly back and forth in slow motion as if he were parrying an enemy's thrusts.

"This baby is light! She's got great balance," he exclaimed as he turned the blade from side to side.

"It suits you then?" MacDuffie asked.

"Oh yeah! Where'd you get this thing anyway?"

Again, MacDuffie didn't reply. Xander ran his hand up and down the dull blade. His fingers stopped as he examined the deep notch midway up the edge. As his fingers move over the damaged section of the sword, a look of comprehension suddenly swept across his face. Surprised, he stared up at MacDuffie.

"Uh, MacDuff . . . is this what I think it is? Cause if it is . . ."

"It's yours now," MacDuffie interrupted him, "I only need to borrow it until tomorrow night . . . when I'll turn it over to its new rightful owner."

In awe, Xander didn't speak but only continued stroking the old damaged blade. Finally he looked up at MacDuffie and held the sword out to hand it back. Shaking his head, the shop owner refused.

"Ya know . . . I don't, . . . " Xander stuttered as he cradled the sword, "I mean, I haven't really earned this."

"Alexandros," MacDuffie said quietly and Anya felt a chill of excitement run up her spine at the sound of the ancient version of Xander's name, "Earning has nothing to do with it. Change, like a great wind, now sweeps across us all, whether we feel it or not. Much will pass away, leaving that which is young, strong, and full of courage. On that foundation will rest what is yet to come."

"Go on! Take it! Say 'yes.'" she encouraged Xander nudging him at the same time.

For a moment, Xander stared back and forth between Anya and MacDuffie. Finally he nodded in agreement.

"Okay, but only after you don't need it anymore. Deal?"

"Deal," MacDuffie smiled.

Xander handed the sword back to the shop keeper who gently returned the ancient blade to its leather sheath. Then the Guardian slowly strapped it on his belt.

"You better not walk down Main Street with that thing flapping in the breeze," Xander quickly pointed out.

"Xander!" Anya exclaimed.

"Did I ever tell you, you have a dirty mind," he said curtly to Anya.

"Thanks for the warning," MacDuffie answered calmly, "Now I think you two have a defense perimeter to finish."

"Right!" Xander exclaimed, for the first time in months confident that he wasn't just acting on his own and that he wasn't being laughed at behind his back. MacDuffie made him feel his efforts were worthwhile and that he wasn't just the Zeppo of the Scoobie Gang.

Eagerly, he and Anya plunged back into the pile of cords and sockets. As Xander attempted to plug one particularly large socket into the main control panel, there was a sudden snap of electricity and a puff of smoke from the wires where he was working.

"Ow!" he exclaimed jumping back.

"Oh, and don't burn the place down before tomorrow night," MacDuffie called out to Xander as he turned to leave the shop.

"No problem, MacDuff!"

"It's okay," Anya whispered confidently in MacDuffie's direction, "I know where the fire extinguisher is."

Shaking his head and wondering whether Giles wasn't right after all, MacDuffie walked out the front door of the shop into the waiting night.

*** * * * * * * ***

Riley hated this wing of the Initiative more than any place in the massive underground complex. The block was lined with detention cells under glaring overhead lights that were painful to the eyes if you lingered under them long enough. The corridor ran in a straight line down the center between the cells which lined either side. Each cell was occupied with either two demons or two vampires. Every few minutes, one of the "hostiles" threw itself in desperation against the force field sealing off the cells. The result was always the same, a loud snap of electricity and a howl of pain.

The place smelled, sometimes so strongly of antiseptic cleaner that it made Riley lightheaded, other times with a stench that the cleaner was meant to cover up. Some of the captives paced nervously back and forth, others raged and screamed as they jumped within the confines of their imprisonment. A few were curled up, silent, in the corners of their cages only emitting a half hearted growl at the passing of one of their captors.

At the far end of the detention block, Riley Finn stood before the last cell. His arms were folded across his chest, and he watched with unspeaking intensity a demon crouched on the floor of the cell just within the confines of the force field.

The demon, covered in scruffy brown hair and sporting a set of small horns and a long hooked nose, growled quietly back at Riley. The demon's large, green eyes remained fixed on him, and the two glowered at each other, their eyes locked as if both realized words were a total failure at this juncture leaving only thought and emotion as the last possible means of communication.

Neither moved for a long time. Somewhere down the detention block, a snap of electricity from an activated force field and a vampire's scream of pain rang out. Oblivious, Riley and the demon still stared at one another.

Suddenly, as if she were a ghost materializing out of the blinding light all around them, Professor Maggie Walsh loomed up behind Riley. He sensed her presence immediately and spun around at attention. The demon scrambled away from the front of the cell and cowered against a back wall.

"Agent Finn," she announced sternly, "Some disturbing reports have come to my attention."

Riley didn't reply. The moment had arrived.

"It seems you have been directly countermanding my orders with the patrols under your command. Is this true?" she demanded.

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Your explanation!?"

Riley took a deep breath.

"I've received new information regarding the entity and its capabilities," he said with military precision, "It's not from this universe . . . and there's not just one of them."

Professor Walsh, her fury building, began pacing back and forth in front of Riley. She instantly recognized his challenge which she was always trying to suppress.

"And this new information you obtained from what source?" she asked sternly.

"Well, . . . from Buffy," Riley sensed the weakness in his own voice and was angry with himself.

"From . . . Buffy!" Walsh answered dripping sarcasm.

"Ma'am . . . permission to speak freely," Riley requested, realizing the Professor had, with a few words, shifted him totally on the defensive. He couldn't stop now. All their lives depended on him.

Walsh turned to Riley and eyed him with surprise as if she were shocked he should make such a request.

"Permission . . . granted," she said slowly.

"Professor, we both have seen those infra red readouts," Riley gave it one last shot in an attempt to reason with Professor Walsh, "So have Graham, Forrest and a lot of the other men. All the alpha particle packs together don't have the power to neutralize that thing for capture. You know it and I know it. And if there's more of them coming along with it . . ."

Professor Walsh didn't reply. For a moment, Riley imagined the look on her face betrayed uncertainty, the possibility that she might actually understand his reasoning.

"So," he continued, "I authorized the shift into Code Red Defensive Mode."

Walsh's eyes widened with anger. She spun on her heels about to reprimand Riley, but he cut her off. It was now or never, and he realized he had underestimated her need for unquestioned authority.

"If this entity is truly intelligent as we think it is," he said urgently, "We must presume it also knows of the Initiative! And if, as Buffy says, its objective is to lead an invasion of this world by beings similar to itself, then logically, it will strike at the strongest points of defense first!"

"Agent Finn!" her voice commanded silence. Still Riley wouldn't stop. He couldn't stop.

"Professor! Please just listen!"

Walsh's eyes blazed with fury as Riley argued his case.

"I've pulled all the patrols, they're a waste of time. I've called up all available personnel who are now reinforcing the perimeter electron force fields. Back up generators have been given a full shake down. The squads are broken down into two groups, half to defend the Command Center itself and half to act as two and three man lightning strike groups, able to move quickly and secretly to counteract the advance of these things. Their objective will be to keep a flow of information coming to the Command Center . . . and look for and exploit any weaknesses. Those read outs prove we're going to be massively outgunned on this, so we have to keep our forces scattered and moving fast . . . or it could be all over in a matter of minutes!"

Professor Walsh paused ominously before she replied.

"You've taken a liking to command," she answered calmly, her voice colder than he had ever heard, " I see you have also initiated the Fabius Plan."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"You would authorize the impending evacuation of this facility and arm the auto destruct on your own initiative!?" she suddenly screamed, letting all the pent up fury at Riley's challenge to her authority blaze out.

"No, Ma'am," he answered as coldly as she had moments before. The response caught Maggie Walsh completely off guard.

"And just what do you mean by . . .?!"

"I received the go ahead from the Committee in Washington," he interrupted her, "'Aurelius' himself sent the authorization."

Now Walsh began to sputter with anger. Struggling, she regained her composure, but as she spoke, her words dripped like blood on the honed edge of a sharp blade.

"Agent Finn . . ." she commanded, "For defiance of my direct orders, you will remove yourself immediately from this detention center!"

Riley stood firm and returned Professor Walsh's icy glare.

"You will report to Sgt. Harrington in Isolation Block 3 where you will be confined until further notice!"

Still Riley didn't move.

"Now, Mister!" she shouted as she realized he was ignoring her direct orders.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am. It's over," he said, again mustering all his cool military training. "The Committee has relieved you of command over this facility. The Project is on indefinite hold."

"Agent Finn!"

Suddenly, two armed Initiative soldiers stepped up behind Professor Walsh. As if awaiting orders for their next move, they trained their eyes on Riley. Professor Walsh was immediately aware of their presence and what it meant.

"So, . . ." she snarled, "You've engineered a coup d'etat. Very skillfully done. I guess it's my own fault. I made you what you are."

"Please escort Professor Walsh to her office," Riley said to the soldiers as he ignored her remarks.

Realizing she had lost this round, Walsh turned to leave with a soldier at either side of her. Before she walked a few feet away from the detention cell, she suddenly stopped and looked back at Riley. Her voice was now cold and emotionless.

"You're wrong, you know," she said, and her tone made Riley shudder inside.

"Ma'am?" he asked.

"About them, the hostiles. . . ." she said, nodding at the cell, "There's nothing human in them."

Riley didn't respond but only stared at Professor Walsh.

". . . no soul . . ." she said in a chilling tone. For a second, Riley imagined it wasn't even Maggie Walsh's voice, but the hissing whisper of the creatures that Buffy had warned him about.

Professor Walsh turned away from Riley as the two soldiers escorted her out of the detention block. Down the hallway, there was another crackle of an activated force field and a howl of pain.

Riley suddenly realized that Hunter was standing by his side.

"So," Hunter asked as gently as possible, "It's all done?"

"Yes," Riley answered numbly, "Hunter?"

"Sir?"

"Begin the controlled release of the hostiles. One every hour. Starting with this one," Riley pointed to the demon in the cell in front of him.

"North tunnel, sir?" Hunter asked for confirmation of the plan he had helped Riley put together.

"Yes. And keep it on schedule," Riley answered, his voice devoid of any enthusiasm, "When those _things_ break through tomorrow night every drop of power is going into the defense grids. The detention block will be deactivated. We're not going to need any . . . 'distractions.'"

Hunter nodded. Realizing immediately there was nothing more to be said, he walked away from Riley and out of the detention block. After he had left, Riley turned to the demon in the cell before him who had witnessed the entire encounter.

"_You_ know what's coming," he said quietly to the demon.

The demon glared at Riley and growled softly.

"You'll be free in a few minutes . . . " Riley said with a whispered intensity, "And when you are . . . _run like Hell!"_

The demon was silent, unmoving and stared back.

* * * * * * * * * *

Go To Part 17 


	17. On the edge of the end of the world

**The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind**

**Chapter 17  
On the edge of the end of the world.  
  
**_by Gaius Petronius_

DISCLAIMER:  
Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB, Fox and Mutant Enemy, Inc. This story can be read on its own or as a sequel to H. P. Lovecraft's "The Haunter of the Dark" from which the Ancient Ones, the Shining Trapezohedron and the character of Robert Blake are derived. 

The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind is set roughly in mid-season four shortly following the death of Doyle but before the creation of Adam and the death of Maggie Walsh.

**Content Note:** This part is rated PG-13 for a little raunchy language.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Darkness and a faint mist overhung the cemetery and all the stones like a great stifling blanket. Angel with Kate Lockley directly at his side, stood by the entrance to a large crypt. Nearby, Cordelia leaned against a tall dark stone. She eyed the monuments around her as if she were revisiting a particularly unpleasant past moment in her life.

All three stood unmoving before the crypt whose hidden passageways led to the underground Chamber once inhabited by The Master, Buffy's first and most powerful nemesis upon her arrival in Sunnydale. Once fearsome looking, the massive mausoleum now was abandoned and looted. Trash and broken fragments of stone lay scattered about the entrance and marble steps. The iron door itself swung loosely on its creaking hinges as if no one any longer feared the crypt's resident enough to shut the door.

Absent mindedly, Angel swung the door back and forth in his hand. The gate emitted a piercing, grating, creaking noise from its rusted hinges that seemed to shout out in the darkness of the night, "Here we are!"

"Angel . . .," Cordelia said with a touch of irritation in her voice.

"Yeah?" he asked looking back over his shoulder.

"That's really annoying!"

"Oh, sorry." Angel let go of the door but continued to stare at the damaged structure. He tried to conjure up the images in his head of that fateful night three years earlier when Buffy had died and he couldn't save her.

"Hey, Angel, what gives?" Kate sensed the depths to which the vampire was now plunging. Angel ignored her.

"This is the entrance to the Master's lair," Cordelia explained softly as she stepped up behind the LAPD detective. Slowly Cordelia studied the wreckage strewn about the crypt. She kicked at a small fragment of stone at her feet, sending it clinking down the marble entrance stairs.

". . . or it was anyway," she muttered with raised eyebrows as she realized how much her fear of the place was now largely a thing of the past.

"This is where Buffy . . . was killed?" Kate asked, keeping her eyes on Angel.

"Yeah . . ." he finally answered, "I couldn't save her, either. No matter how much I loved her, the dead can't breathe life into the living . . . only death."

"Then how . . .?" but Kate stopped in mid sentence. Angel was silent.

"It was Xander," Cordelia finally answered the unfinished question, "He and Angel pulled her out of the water, and Xander gave Buffy CPR."

"Xander gave her her life back. . . something I never could," Angel said, hanging his head.

Kate stepped around in front of Angel. Her tall full figure topped with a head of slightly disheveled blond hair blocked Angel's view of the crypt.

"Hey" she said softly almost in his face.

Angel didn't reply.

"Let's get outta here," she said firmly.

Angel was still silent.

"We're not getting squat done reminiscing over high school fun times!" Kate continued more insistently, "This isn't helping Buffy or anybody. Class reunions really suck that way."

"She's right, you know," Cordelia agreed. Being gone for just those few months since graduation had changed everything. She knew they wouldn't find anything that would make a difference to them today in this place. "There's nothing here, Angel," she said firmly, "It's ancient history. Giles said Buffy's fine."

Angel didn't move or respond. Suddenly Kate sighed with exasperation and threw up her hands in disgust.

"How do you put up with this shit?" she announced to Cordelia at the same time trying to shame Angel into answering back.

"Get used to it, honey," Cordelia grinned half heartedly back at Kate.

*** * * * * * ***

Giles sat at the little table in his apartment's kitchen alcove. He studied intently the small copy of Lecritis that MacDuffie gave him. Flopped on the sofa in the living room, Spike was still riveted to the television and the muffled dialogue coming from the screen.

Giles quietly read over and over a single sentence from the ancient chronicle.

"Her soul, freed from the Ancient Ones, passed on to Paradise Beyond the River, . . . and her body died." Giles shook his head and in frustrated fury slammed his fist down on the table.

"Damn!" he shouted and suddenly realized he was wiping away the moisture running down his cheek with the sleeve of his shirt.

"'Ay, Watcher! You mind?" Spike called out.

"Shut up, Spike," Giles snarled back. Spike decided not to answer since the tone in Gile's voice carried a threat that the vampire had only heard once before and didn't care to hear again. Spike grumbled as he tried to pick up the story line of the soap opera on the television.

Suddenly the front door slammed open. A surly and severely hung over Willow stormed in, marched across the apartment, and paraded up to Giles.

"Oh, hello," Giles responded sarcastically, not particularly caring if he offended anyone or not, "I suppose knocking has become a rather silly and antiquated custom."

"Giles! What was that all about, getting me drunk in the shop!?" Willow growled back, fully prepared to rise to the occasion.

Spike looked up from the television.

"What!? You old farts got Red snockered!?"

"Shut up, Clorox hair!" Willow snarled at Spike, "I got one hell of a hangover headache, and I don't want any of your crap!"

"Ooo, touchy, touchy," Spike grinned as he relished the tension and ill temper that seemed to smother everything and everybody in the apartment.

"Willow, . . . what is it?" Giles replied, barely able to sustain his patience, "Buffy's in serious trouble and I'm very busy here."

"Giles! What were you two up to!?"

"Nothing, really," Giles lied, unable to look Willow in the face. He stared at the tiles on the kitchen floor as he answered, "At least . . . nothing I was aware of at the time."

Willow swallowed heavily and finally spoke again.

"Is Mr. MacDuffie going to die, too?" she whispered, her voice trembling, ". . . along with Buffy?"

"I don't know . . ." Giles couldn't face her, "But he sees things we can't . . . and I'm afraid . . ."

Giles wasn't able to finish the sentence. Willow stood for a moment in silent shock. She shook her head and began whimpering.

". . . no . . . no . . . we have to save them . . ."

Giles looked up and the tears starting to form in her eyes tore at his heart. He thought to himself how much they all were going to lose even if they somehow prevailed. Giles reached out and wrapped Willow in his arms.

" . . . please, Giles . . . " she wept.

"Sshh, Willow, sshh . . ." Giles whispered as he understood he now had another daughter to care for. He gently and reassuringly stroked her long red hair.

"Sshh, Willow, sshh . . ."

* * * * * * * * *

Lining the sidewalk in front of the New Age Curiosity Shop was a massive bank of spotlights and floods. Xander, having just completed pointing the lights out into the street, stepped back off the pavement to admire his handiwork.

"Man, what a light show this is gonna be!" he announced, "I really did want to try this out on Spike first, but, hey, whatever . . ."

"Are you ready to test 'em yet?" Anya shouted from in the shop where she was waiting out of sight by the control panel.

"Let 'er rip, babe!"

There was a loud electrical snap from inside the shop as Anya threw the power switch. A sudden blaze of light seared through the night. Illumination burst from the floods and spotlights, all of it directly into Xander's face. The surprise and brilliance not only blinded him, but sent him reeling backwards off his feet.

"Aaaaahhh! GEEZ! ANYA, TURN IT OFF!" he howled as he rolled out onto the pavement.

The lights suddenly snapped out and darkness returned to the quiet street. Realizing he was now in the middle of the street, Xander crawled over to the sidewalk and sat on the cracked concrete curbing, all the while rubbing his face and eyes with his hands. Anya, excited at the success of the test, skipped merrily out of the shop, joined Xander and plunked herself down beside him.

"Wow! Works pretty good, huh!" she announced confidently.

"Uh . . . yeah," Xander answered still blinded and rubbing his eyes.

"Great! That job's done. Now we can have sex!"

Xander looked up at Anya. As the vision of her slowly returned to his eyes, he grinned, and shook his head in amazement. He leaned towards her, and the two instantly fell into each other's arms, their faces locked in a passionate round of kissing. Their arms wrapped tightly around each other as they began groping. For a moment, it appeared as if they are going to roll over on the sidewalk and make love right there in front of the shop. Suddenly, Xander pulled back.

"Anya . . ."

"What is it now? You said it was hard to stop."

"I got one more thing to do before I'm all yours," Xander said.

"What?" Anya pouted.

"I gotta go tell Buffy what we got set up here," he said as gently as he could, "If she's gonna lure it in front of the light, she's gotta know about the plan."

"And this is more important than sex?" Anya asked sarcastically.

"Although I understand your thinking . . ." Xander said as he spread his arms around Anya's shoulders and drew her in tightly against him, "_Believe me I understand it!_ . . . Anya, if the world comes to an end tomorrow night . . . well, . . . there'll be no more sex."

"Ooo!" Anya answered, crinkling her nose at the same time, "That's bad. You better find Buffy."

"I thought you'd understand," he said, unwrapping himself from her embrace as they both stood up, "I think she's with Faith over at the Convalescent Hospital. I'll meet you back at Giles'."

For a moment, both stared at each other and didn't move. Finally Anya broke the silence.

"Well, go on!" she announced. "The sooner you get back, the sooner we can have sex."

"Right!" Xander exclaimed.

He jumped into the cab of the truck and pulled out into the street. As he drove away, the van veered erratically around the corner and disappeared with a screeching of tires. Standing alone where he left her, Anya grinned to herself.

*** * * * * * ***

The door from Faith's room out into the convalescent hospital hallway was shut, and Faith's room was bathed in almost total darkness. The curtains were drawn back from the window and the tall panes rolled out so that the night air spilled in. A hospital gown lay scattered on the floor.

Faith, now fully dressed in her leather pants and jacket, stood motionless before the window. With her back to the room, she stared unmoving out into the night. Her eyes, like beacons, almost glowed with a deep blood red, but her face was frozen in an expressionless mask. Beyond the window, the darkness began to take on a faint crimson tinge.

Suddenly Faith's face contorted as if she were struggling with some kind of inner convulsion, her mind wrestling against an incredibly powerful force.

". . . damn you! . . . DAMN YOU! . . ." she snarled as she writhed.

Suddenly, as if she no longer had the will or strength to resist, Faith let her head droop forward. For a moment she was motionless. Then slowly, almost imperceptibly, the appearance of her face changed. The distinct features of her jaw, her rounded cheekbones, her long black hair, all softened and then blurred out of focus. In their place as she looked back up appeared the vaguest hints of a deep red color and, as if seen down endless vistas of an unknown universe, the image of an eye, divided into three lobes and searing with flames, merged in the place of her face.

She spoke again, but it was now not with her own voice. The sound was deep, hollow and echoed as if it were crossing a vast distance.

"There now . . . you see? . . . that's so much better."

*** * * * * * ***

Buffy, her fists raised in a full defensive posture, patrolled among the graves and overhanging bushes and plantings of the Sunnydale Cemetery. She glared back and forth nervously, searching for some sign of the undead and, in particular, any hint that she was being watched by the Ancient Ones. She slipped stealthily from stone to stone but found nothing out of the ordinary. The cemetery was unusually quiet. A sky full of stars floated peacefully overhead.

She stopped still and lowered her fists. Puzzled, she put her hands on her hips, shook her head and muttered to herself.

"This is just plain weird."

Suddenly, from out of the bushes only yards away, burst a small demon. It was hairy, with extended arms, small horns and a long hooked nose and running wildly. Buffy swung about to mount a defense, but before she could even launch a kick or hand thrust, the demon swept by her at breakneck speed and vanished from the clearing. For just an instant, she caught a glimpse of its eyes as it cast a petrified glance back over its shoulder before disappearing into the night.

"What the . . . That little cutie was scared . . . running for its life . . ." Buffy said outloud to herself.

Buffy almost followed the demon but changed her mind as instead she eyed the path from which it came.

"But what was it running from?" Her mind raced.

Slowly, Buffy followed the path, retracing the demon's flight. In a moment, she pushed her way around a heavy hedge and out into a clearing below a gentle rise that led up to the cavernous north entrance of the Initiative Headquarters. There, silhouetted against the night sky at the cavern entrance stood Riley and Hunter. Both stared out into the night but were unaware they were being watched.

Buffy's heart surged. She wanted to jump out of the concealing bushes and run to Riley, but suddenly their voices made her hold back. Buffy strained her ears to hear the conversation.

"Should I begin preparations for the next release, sir?" Hunter quietly asked Riley.

"Yes," he answered with no emotion.

"One hour, sir?"

"One hour," Riley nodded.

"I think it understood you, sir," Hunter said after a few moments of silence.

Riley stared off into the dark void of the sky. He wondered absent mindedly which of the stars was the one from which the Ancient Ones would launch their assault.

"I don't know," Riley replied shaking his head, "Maybe. Hunter?"

"Yes, sir?"

Riley paused.

"You're not to report for duty tomorrow morning."

"What? Sir?" Hunter's voice rose just a shade in surprise.

"You heard me," Riley answered firmly, "I don't want to see you in the compound after tonight. Get a hold of that girlfriend of yours, what's her name? Sandy? You two get out of Sunnydale as fast as you can. Don't stop. Just keep going. Is that understood?"

Hunter straightened up at attention before he replied.

"Permission to speak freely, sir," he said.

"Oh, crap, here it comes," Riley sighed, knowing the technician was going to give him grief, "Yeah, what is it?"

"Bull shit . . . sir," Hunter answered with a big smirk.

Riley looked at Hunter. Not moving from the spot, the younger Initiative technician still grinned at him. There was a long pause. Finally, Riley gave Hunter an appreciative nod.

"Dismissed, . . . soldier."

"Thank you, sir."

Hunter turned and re-entered the cavern which served as the north entrance to the Initiative Headquarters.

Alone, Riley continued to stare out into the darkness. "What am I doing?" he thought, struggling with the self doubt that had lingered ever since Buffy told him the nature of the danger they were all facing. "I'm leading the entire Initiative into a complete disaster . . . and for what?"

Riley scanned the darkness all around him one more time as if the answer, the solution that would bring them all back from the edge was somehow lurking just beyond the field of his vision.

Suddenly his eyes fell on Buffy standing at the edge of the clearing. They stared at one another unspeaking for a few moments. Finally he whispered to her, his voice almost pleading.

". . . Buffy . . ."

Buffy walked the few yards up to the entrance to the Initiative Headquarters. She stood unspeaking before Riley for a moment and slowly wrapped her arms around him. Their bodies pressed together firmly as they both held each other tightly on the gentle rise as if it were a precipice looming over a crater of doom.

"Don't let go," Buffy whispered into Riley's shoulder, "Please. . . hold me. Tomorrow there won't be any time."

"Let's just imagine this moment . . . is really forever," Riley answered as he ran his hands through her long honey blonde hair, "Then whatever comes, won't matter . . . 'cause we have forever."

"You've got to get away," Buffy said suddenly looking him directly in the face.

Riley shook his head.

"I can't. I've had Maggie Walsh removed from command. I'm in charge now. I have to protect the Initiative."

"Then order the place evacuated!" Buffy cried out desperately, "Get everybody out of here! You can't stop It!"

"I know," Riley answered with a finality that struck Buffy as surely as if a stake had been plunged into her heart, "But we will slow It down . . . _so you can_."

"Riley . . . ?"

Buffy didn't finish her sentence. Instead she suddenly pressed her lips passionately against his, drinking in his love for her as if it could somehow instill her with a new strength to face the end of everything she held dear. She relished their surging emotions as Riley ran his hands through her hair and down the small of her back.

"Don't stop," her mind pleaded silently over and over. Together they held each other on the hillside, each dreaming a silent prayer that Time, at this end moment would somehow grant them one last mercy and slow down. Finally, Riley pulled his face a few inches away from hers.

"Forever . . . I never realized forever was so incredible."

Buffy buried her face in Riley's shoulder once more. She struggled against her overpowering emotions, fought back and desperately battled to hold the line against the superior force of her own making. At the same time, she knew all along her brave final stand would be futile as she felt the single tear escape her eye, run down her cheek and, in an instant, disappear into Riley's shouder.

"Now I know what Giles meant," she murmured to herself after a few moments, "What they must've felt . . . Petronius and Cassandra . . . on the edge of the end of the world."

"What did you say?" Riley asked softly.

"Nothing," she said despairing as she broke off her embrace and wiped away the wetness on her cheek with her sleeve, "It's nothing. I gotta go."

"Me, too," he answered slowly.

Buffy stepped back from Riley and quickly walked down off the rise. As she did, Riley called after her.

"I'll be by your side tomorrow!" his voice rang out, "We all will!"

"I know," she whispered back, "I love you."

"I love you, too," he answered almost silently.

Buffy smiled sadly, turned and disappeared into the bushes on the edge of the cemetery. Riley watched the darkness for a few moments where she had vanished. Then he took his hand which only minutes before he had run through Buffy's soft blond hair, stroked it against the side of his face and sighed. He straightened up, turned away from the deepening night and walked out of view back into the north entrance of the Initiative Headquarters.

All around in anticipation of what was yet to come, the black night under the star lit sky rested quietly, unmoving, frozen in a moment in time on the empty hillside.

* * * * * * * *

Go To Part 18 


	18. Demons

**The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind**

**Chapter 18  
Demons  
  
**_by Gaius Petronius_

DISCLAIMER:  
Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB, Fox and Mutant Enemy, Inc. This story can be read on its own or as a sequel to H. P. Lovecraft's "The Haunter of the Dark" from which the Ancient Ones, the Shining Trapezohedron and the character of Robert Blake are derived. 

The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind is set roughly in mid-season four shortly following the death of Doyle but before the creation of Adam and the death of Maggie Walsh.

**Content Note:** This part is rated PG-13 for a little raunchy language.

* * * * * * * * * *

It was unusually still for early evening in downtown Sunnydale. A car drove by, the noise of its engine piercing the silence for a few moments as it receded in the distance and finally faded away.

Anson MacDuffie stood alone in front of the New Age Curiosity Shop, his back to Xander's wall of floodlights. The shop keeper now wore a long loose fitting trench coat with the ancient sword strapped to the belt at his side. He stared off into the darkness as if gazing upon something that wasn't actually there.

"We're ready for you," he said quietly as if to the night itself that surrounded him.

At the same time, Faith lurked by the open window of her room in Sunnydale Convalescent. Her hands were firmly placed on her hips and the image of her face grew less distinct and more out of focus with each passing moment . Her red eyes glowed like beacons through the obscurity surrounding her face. All about the room, a faint tinge of crimson light illuminated the bed, tables and chairs. When Faith finally spoke, it was in answer to MacDuffie's challenge from blocks away. It was also not with her own voice but with the disembodied echo of the Ancient One.

"Not _another_ Guardian . . ." the words rang sarcastically in the night.

MacDuffie stood silently and unmoving. Slowly a soft breeze rose and gently played with the tips of his long trench coat.

He could see the thing that was Faith grinning evilly as if she were standing directly in front of him.

"All those who dared oppose me before . . . are now dead," it said with the coldness of the Void ". . . as you will be, too."

"We both share that vision, yes," MacDuffie answered into the empty night in front of him, " . . . but unlike you, Ancient One, my gift allows me to see more."

"I see only one thing . . ." it answered as what little trace of Faith's face remaining dissolved away so that it took on the appearance of the three lobed burning eye of Nyarlethotep, "Where a Guardian stands, the Shining Trapezohedron is close by."

MacDuffie didn't reply. Rather he slowly drew the battered sword from its sheath, grasped the handle with both hands and held it out directly in front of him as if preparing to do battle. The weapon shone with a faint yellow light.

Outside the Convalescent Hospital, the small delivery truck with Xander at the wheel lurched up the driveway towards the entrance. Xander struggled to pull up to the curb and park but he ground the gears as he downshifted, bounced the right front wheel up onto the sidewalk as he popped the clutch, and brought the truck to a stop only inches from a fire hydrant.

The engine stalled with a clatter as Xander dropped out of the cab. For a moment he studied his botched parking job and the proximity of the hydrant.

"Cool. Missed it that time," he said.

Quickly, he turned and sauntered up to the front entrance.

* * * * * * * * *

Angel descended the steps of the crypt that led to the Master's Lair. Kate followed at his side. As he did, he casually kicked aside a small piece of rubble in his path. Cordelia waited for them at the clearing in front of the crypt.

"Will you two pick it up a little," she said impatiently, "This ain't 'Days of Our Lives' ya know."

"So, where to next?" the Los Angeles policewoman asked Angel as they stepped out onto the cemetery lawn.

"I . . . I don't know," Angel muttered as he shook his head.

"Angel, this isn't getting us anywhere," Kate answered now sharing Cordelia's impatience.

Angel didn't answer.

"Listen, maybe we better link back up with that Giles friend of yours," Kate continued exercising all the patience she could command, "If we're going to do anything to help your ex here, we gotta get our act together and work out a plan."

Still Angel stared off into the darkness. Exasperated, Kate faced Cordelia.

"You know this wuss-puss?" she snapped, "He ain't the guy I know from LA!"

Kate turned back to Angel and stepped up in front of him. As she had moments before, Lockley pushed her face directly in his and laced the vampire out.

"The Angel I know runs the show!" she said firmly, "He's got the answers no matter how tough they are! And just when you thought it was all over and you're ready to quit . . ."

Kate paused. She stood back from Angel as the stern look of a police interrogator left her face and was replaced by that of a pained and confused young woman.

". . . he makes you see that _there is_ a reason to go on. It might be crazier than hell but . . . you realize he's right . . . and maybe you _can_ do it. . . . I like that guy. 'Cause he took some of the pain out of what's happened."

Kate gestured at Angel as if he were a total stranger.

"But you!. . . I don't know who the hell you are . . ."

"One problem, Kate . . .," Cordelia answered gently.

"Oh, yeah? Only one?" the policewoman snapped sarcastically, "We're making progress!"

"This is Sunnydale, not LA," Cordelia said in a tone that made Kate stop and stare at her. It took only a fraction of a second for Cordelia's meaning to sink in. Finally, Kate nodded her head in agreement.

"Point taken," she replied as she turned to face Angel. "Well, we're waiting," she said to the vampire.

"You're right, Kate," Angel signed, "Let's go find Giles."

"This is crazy," Kate announced as all three turned and started walking across the clearing in front of the crypt, "I really gotta meet this Buffy chick sometime."

Almost before Kate could finish her sentence, Buffy, returning from meeting with Riley by the North entrance to the Initiative, slipped out of the bushes surrounding the clearing. Distracted, she wasn't paying attention and was surprised by the sudden appearance of three figures in the dark. She jumped back and instantly drew out a small stake as she prepared to strike if any of the figures made a threatening move.

At the same time, Kate, spotting an unknown figure wielding a weapon, just as quickly leaped into a protective crouch in front of Angel and drew her service revolver from the shoulder holster concealed under her jacket and aimed it at Buffy.

"DROP IT, HONEY! NOW!" the policewoman shouted.

"What the Hell!?" Buffy shouted back in confusion.

"NO, Kate!" Angel yelled, adding his voice to the mounting chaos as he put a restraining hand on Kate's shoulder, "Buffy, it's me!"

"Angel?!" the Slayer replied in surprise as she lowered her fist clutching the stake.

"Hey, Buffy!" Cordelia sang out in a cheery voice that couldn't be mistaken.

"_Cordelia?" _Buffy answered with even greater amazement.

"It's okay, Kate," Angel said reassuringly as Kate stared up at him and rose back to her feet.

"Oh my God! You gotta be kidding me!" Kate smirked as she shook her head and slid her revolver back into its holster.

"Angel! What the Hell are you doing here!?" Buffy said now shaking with surprise and building anger as she pointed at Kate, "And who the Hell . . . _is this!?"_

"This is gonna be good!" Cordelia grinned broadly to herself as she relished the impending explosion.

"I, uh . . ." Angel stammered, "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"So you spend the night stalking me?" Buffy shouted as her fury swelled, "Well, see, here I am! I'm fine!"

"Buffy, . . ." Angel struggled to explain, "Cordelia had a vision of this thing you're going up against. It even attacked us. And it's coming for you."

"Well, duh! Ya think?" Buffy snarled back.

"Ahhh . . . how I miss the classic Sunnydale repartee," Cordelia sighed to Kate, "The witty banter, the sophisticated give and take of . . ."

"Shut Up, Cordelia!" Buffy snapped.

"See what I mean?" Cordelia grinned at Kate.

"Buffy, please . . . we're just here to help," Angel said, realizing at the same time that his motives would only be seen by the Slayer as a sign of her own weakness.

Buffy, her anger almost overcoming her, sputtered for words to express herself. She finally turned to face Kate. The policewoman folded her arms across her chest and, with an icy smile, returned Buffy's glare.

The contrast between the two was striking. On the one hand, Kate, tall, full figured and her bright blond hair sweeping in a long flow across her shoulders, loomed beside Angel. Her appearance was that of a tough, mature woman, hardened by life's experiences. In front of her, Buffy, much shorter and lighter, fumed and struggled with emotions she still didn't fully understand.

"Angel!" She finally burst out, frustrated with her anger and inability to express herself, "_Who the hell is this!?"_

"Lieutenant Katherine Lockley, Detective, LAPD," Kate grinned with a touch of sarcasm in her voice, "You must be Buffy Summers . . . the Slayer."

With cool professionalism, Kate extended her hand in greeting to Buffy. Buffy's mouth dropped open and her eyes almost popped out of their sockets as she stared in shock at Kate. Unable to control herself, Cordelia broke out laughing.

"Cordelia . . . shut up," Angel said quietly.

Cordelia quickly controlled herself. She covered her mouth with her hand but couldn't totally suppress her glee at Buffy's discomfort. She let escape a little snorting giggle.

**_* * * * * * * *_**

In Giles' apartment, Spike still sat glued to the soap operas playing on the VCR. At the kitchen alcove table, Giles and Willow sat across from each other at the tiny breakfast table. Willow, her face streaked from crying, quietly sipped a cup of tea Giles had brought her.

"There. Feeling a little better?" he said soothingly.

"Yeah . . . I guess. But what are we gonna do, Giles?"

"Well, I am working on it now, but so much depends on Buffy herself when she confronts the Ancient Ones," Giles said as he fiddled with his glasses, a mannerism Willow understood to mean the Watcher really was at a loss.

"And Mr. MacDuffie?" she asked.

"I'm afraid that . . . 'problem' . . . may be out of hands," he answered after a pause.

Willow sighed with discouragement and set her teacup down.

". . . Willow . . ."

". . . yeah . . . ?"

"I'm going to need your help," Giles said and Willow immediately recognized it not as a request or even an order but rather a plea, "Buffy and Mr. MacDuffie are going to need your help. Although the Slayer is the only one who can actually seal up the Ancient Ones in the Void, when the time comes, she's going to need all of us to keep Nyarlethotep distracted. Our job is to siphon off its powers fighting other challenges so that Buffy will be able to accomplish her task."

For the first time, Willow, with growing resolve and a light of hope in her eyes, looked up from her teacup at Giles.

"What do you need me to do?" she said as Giles sensed the well of untapped strength that lay behind her tone of voice.

"I want you to search through all your spells and find any pertaining to the channeling of light or the parting of darkness," he explained as if he for the first time was speaking with Willow as an equal, "Then, I want you to look into ways of combining them with magnification processes. Be careful, they can be very dangerous when the two are inter linked."

"Giles . . . it's the end of the world . . ." she smiled, "What harm's a little more danger?"

"Quite right . . ." he grinned in response, "I'll give you a few of my books on . . ."

The door to the apartment suddenly slammed open and Anya paraded in.

"What are you two doing?" she snapped, "Xander's not here yet?"

"I guess we do have to do something about this knocking thing," Willow said apologetically to Giles.

Giles only rolled his eyes in response as Anya sauntered over by Spike who was still glued to the television.

"The Soap Opera Channel?!" she announced as she stared at the screen, "You mean they run this stuff twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week?"

"Oh yeah," he said without looking up, "And I can see a lot of the old ones I missed years ago cause I was busy . . .well, you know . . . feasting, slaughtering, doing all my 'grrr' type stuff."

Anya stared at the action for a few moments in silence.

"These shows are stupid!" she finally announced, "The acting's crummy, the situations are forced, it takes two years to advance the plot two hours, half the characters have evil twins and when somebody dies they never find the body."

"That's the part _I like!"_ Spike smirked.

"Why do people watch this crap!?" she complained.

"Sshh! Jillian and Ryan are about to have sex!" he snapped back.

"Ooo!"

Anya settled in on the sofa in front of the VCR next to Spike. Neither could keep their eyes from the screen.

* * * * * * * * *

Xander swaggered across the lobby of the Sunnydale Convalescent Hospital and up to the receptionist desk. Behind the desk, a night nurse looked up at him. The two talked quietly as Xander asked for directions to Faith's room. After a moment, the nurse pointed down a hallway leading out of the lobby. Xander smiled, nodded and sauntered away from the desk and into the hallway.

In her room, Faith, her face now swathed in red and meshed with the image of the three lobed eye of Nyarlethotep, still stared out the window into the night. Suddenly she sensed something, grinned broadly in a hideous smile and turned away from the window back towards the door to the hallway. She spoke in the deep, echoing voice of the "Haunter of the Dark."

"Will you excuse me a moment, Guardian?" the voice announced, "I have . . . _a visitor."_

MacDuffie stood in the darkness on the edge of the sidewalk, his sword still drawn as if for battle. On hearing the words of the Ancient One, he slowly lowered his weapon, closed his eyes and spoke quietly but intensely.

". . . Alexandros . . ." his voice whispered in the night.

Xander walked quickly and confidently down the hallway leading to the closed door of Faith's room. Suddenly he stopped, frowned and looked nervously around. The hallway was silent with only one orderly at the far end pushing a large rolling cart full of bedding and towels bound for the laundry.

Xander scowled and suddenly his eyed widened.

". . . Alexandros . . . beware! . . ." MacDuffie whispered once more in the darkness.

Not sure exactly what he had heard, but with all his senses now on guard. Xander resumed walking slowly and carefully down the hallway. He cautiously eyed every open room. Finally he reached the junction of the two hallways by Faith's room. There, as he turned the corner, he saw leaking from the crack under the door a sharp beam of deep crimson light. He stopped and stood motionless.

* * * * * * * *

Riley and Hunter waited at the entrance to a caged chamber room deep in the storage areas of the the Initiative.

"The alpha packs are all fully charged, sir. We're ready," Hunter announced with a cool precision as he turned the key in the lock, securing the weapons storage area.

"Good. Overload suppressors all engaged?" Riley asked, triple checking the procedures over both with Hunter and in his own mind.

"You better believe it!" Hunter replied with a grin, "You wouldn't want one of these babies . . . 'boiling over' on ya in the middle of a fire fight!"

"I don't think so," Riley agreed, trying not to imagine the result.

* * * * * * *

Willow and Giles were still seated at the breakfast table in the kitchen alcove, their teacups now replaced by a small stack of books piled up beside them. Spike and Anya remained clustered together on the couch watching the Soap Opera Channel. Suddenly from outside came the sound of angry voices getting louder and louder by the minute.

Willow and Giles looked up and stared first at each other and then towards the door.

"What the bloody hell?" he muttered.

"Giles, I don't think they're gonna knock," Willow said.

"Is that . . . ?"

"Yeah . . . " Willow answered the question before Giles could finish it. "Angel must've found Buffy. Actually probably the other way around."

The door slammed open as Buffy stormed in, followed by Angel, Kate and Cordelia.

"Well, you were the one that walked out on me, remember!" Buffy yelled over her shoulder at the vampire.

"What fun! A brawl!" Spike announced as the action snatched his attention from the screen. He held his hand up to his mouth as if he were speaking into an invisible microphone, "And now we go live to . . ."

"Shut Up!" Buffy cut him off.

"You know we couldn't go on like we were!" Angel said firmly to Buffy, "It's just I was the one who had to say it!"

"We also agreed to stay out of each other's lives!" she shot back, "You remember that little detail, too?! And now you show up with some blond babe in tow . . . " Buffy still struggled for words.

"I already told you," Angel explained for what seemed like the twentieth time, "Kate's with the LAPD. She's worked on a lot of cases with me. She's here to help."

"Get ready. It's your turn, honey," Cordelia whispered sarcastically to Kate.

"Listen, Angel! You don't have to throw her in my face," Buffy was almost screaming now, "I've got a new boyfriend, too, ya know! He loves me. I love him. I've moved on! I can take care of myself!"

"Buffy, you don't understand!"

"No, I understand all too well!" the Slayer snarled as she turned to confront Kate Lockley.

"Just what the hell _are_ you doing here anyway?!" Buffy glowered at Kate, "This isn't LA. This is Sunnydale! You have no idea what we're up against! And yet you come breezing in here like you're gonna show me how to fight this thing."

"Buffy, please, listen . . ." Angel begged as he struggled to contain her boiling temper.

"No! You listen! I'd like to know just what the hell is going on between you two?"

"Let her talk," Kate answered coldly, finally fed up with being Buffy's verbal punching bag, "It's time everybody knew the score."

"Angel, some woman cop from LA who's got the hots for you isn't gonna do us any damn good!" Buffy shouted but this time she didn't look Kate directly in the eyes but aimed her insult at Angel.

Angel, incredulous, only stared at Buffy. Spike leaped up from the couch in front of the television and slithered into the kitchen alcove to get a better view of the action. Giles, finally detecting a break in the argument, dared to slip a word in.

"Uh, good evening, everyone," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Hi, guys!" Willow waved from the table.

"Yeah, whatever!" Buffy barked back.

"Hi, Giles!" Cordelia sang out in a cheery voice from the back of the group.

"Hello, Cordelia," Giles replied with exaggerated politeness.

"Hello, everyone," Spike cooed sarcastically as he waved effeminately from the kitchen alcove. "Hello, Rupert!" he whispered seductively as he turned to Giles.

"Shut up, Spike!" the Watcher snapped back, restraining the urge to plant his fist squarely in the middle of the vampire's face.

"You have no idea what I face every night!" Buffy lectured Kate after finally catching her breath, "Have you seen what's left of Sunnydale High? We've got more dead friends than you police have donuts! And now this 'Haunter' thing is coming after me trying to use my power to let itself loose in the world. You've already seen what the hell it can do, and I'm the only one who can stop it! I fight big time demons, lady, not pickpockets and two bit muggers! That's what I do, so pack your bags and head back to your little safe precinct 'cause you're way over your pretty blond head here!"

There was a long pause as Buffy and Kate glared at each other. Then Kate grinned slightly and shook her head as if she were preparing to interrogate a particularly obnoxious witness who required some delicate but firm handling.

"You _are_ a little hothead," the policewoman said calmly to Buffy, "In fact, you remind me of someone I used to know real well. Let me just share one thing with you, though."

Kate paused for a moment. She took two steps forward to stand directly in front of Buffy. Her tall figure loomed over the diminutive Slayer.

"Ooo, look out! Big Blondie's gonna throw the first punch!" Spike whispered to Willow.

"Yeah, you kill demons and vamps," Kate continued, "And you're good at it, and it's made you tough. . . . But it's also blinded you. You see, your demons are all the same. You can't mistake 'em. They're ugly, some have horns, others spikes. Nasty claws, scales, bad breath, B.O., the usual. You can't miss 'em. And they're all into the same evil type things. Open a Hellmouth, end the world, that kind of stuff."

Buffy began to shift uncomfortably as Kate spoke.

"But you see, what you don't get is I fight demons, too," Kate said, her voice cool and professional, "Every day, every night. But my demons, you can't tell them apart from normal people on the street. They dress nice, wear aftershave, have styled hair. Most of them got good clothes, Versacci, Tommy Hilfiger. They drive fancy cars. Then . . . all of a sudden I've got on my hands some wife or girlfriend beaten senseless, sometimes dead with her throat cut. Or an ordinary single woman, a mother, and she shows up in the emergency room with her six month old baby with a cracked skull or a broken neck."

Buffy fidgeted and began to look down at the floor.

"Or then there's the decent looking kids," Kate continued, "Younger than you most of them. Nice and normal until some morning one of my men finds the torched corpse of a homeless man behind a dumpster in an alley. Or I get a frantic call from some high school secretary screaming about somebody running loose in the halls with a semiautomatic and there's a body or two in one of the classrooms."

Buffy couldn't look at Kate any longer. And still the LAPD cop wouldn't let up. She told her tale not with any vindictive tone in her voice but with her cold clarity which was far more chilling and effective.

"And I still can't tell whether they're demons," she announced, "Cause, unlike yours, they're not in any book describing exactly what they look like and what they do. So I gotta rely on my own wits and profile 'em. And just when I think I've seen them all, the bastards dream up something new to throw at me, something so twisted and God awful that everything that came before seems tame by comparison."

"Kate, you don't have to . . ." Angel protested.

"No, Angel, she's gotta hear this! This guy," Kate said turning directly to Buffy as she thumbed at Angel, "Your ex boyfriend here, he _is _special to me. In more ways than you can imagine. He and his secretary there, they give me my only edge. They can spot some of the worst of these demons _before_ they actually do their thing. He's even saved my ass a bunch of times. Do I got feelings for him? You bet! 'Cause without him . . . it's just me and the demons . . . and, babe, at least I'll admit when I'm badly outnumbered and I'll take any help I can get. So, get over it, Buffy! . . . Oh, and one other thing."

For the first time, Buffy looked up at Kate.

"What makes you think _you're _the one this Haunter entity is after?" Kate said with a finality that sent chills down the spines of several of the Scooby Gang, "From what I hear, you're not the only Slayer in this stinking little burg."

"But I've been confronting this thing for over a week now!" Buffy sputtered defensively.

"She's probably right, Buffy," Anya piped up from the sofa, "It wouldn't matter to Nyarlethotep which Slayer it is. It's the Slayer's life force it's after."

For a moment, Buffy shuddered.

". . . Faith . . ." she whispered in fear, realizing her tactical error.

"I hasn't been sizing you up . . . " Kate said driving the verbal stake in deep, "Just keeping you busy while it moves in on its _real victim._ Your comatose slayer friend there, Faith."

"Oh Dear God! . . . " Giles exclaimed, "And It's imprisoned in the realm of the unconscious . . . along with her!"

"All this time . . . she been fighting it . . . alone," Buffy exclaimed with growing horror, "Giles, the look in her eyes! She tried to tell me! That's what it is! . . . she's been pleading with us! Begging us to find a way to help her!"

"Where is she now?! Is anybody watching her?" Kate said trying to direct the group towards a plan of action.

"Easy! It's okay," Anya smiled confidently, "Xander was stopping by on his way here. He'll keep an eye on her."

Buffy and Giles, their mouths open and their expressions bordering on panic, stared at Anya, then at each other.

". . . uh . . . my car's out front," Giles finally said with a restrained urgency, "Anya, you'd better come along. You seem to have had some experience with this entity."

Giles scrambled out of the kitchen alcove and snatched his jacket from the coat hook as he, Buffy and Anya moved quickly to the front door.

"You guys gonna follow us?" Buffy called out to Angel.

"Right behind you!" he answered. For a moment, it seemed like all the rancor had suddenly vanished, leaving a hazy vision of old times.

"Angel . . . I'm sorry," Buffy said quickly.

"I understand. Later," Angel answered gently. He turned to Kate and Cordelia, "Come on, we gotta move it! You guys are with me."

"Where?" Kate asked all business as she slipped in beside Angel on the way out the door.

"Sunnydale Convalescent."

"Hey! Don't I get to tag along?" Spike called out in a whine.

"Giles! What about me!" Willow exclaimed.

"Willow, sorry, your turn to babysit," Giles yelled from outside the front door, "Spike, today's GH tape is in the VCR!"

As Giles, Buffy Anya, Angel, Kate and Cordelia left, the front door slammed behind them. For a moment, Willow and Spike glared at each other. Willow then got up from her chair, walked over to the VCR and loaded in the tape. She plopped down on the couch in disgust.

"This sucks!" she complained to herself.

Before she realized what was happening, Spike bounded out of the alcove, leapt over the back of the couch and landed down right beside her. Although she knew Spike couldn't harm her because of the Initiative implant, his close proximity still made her nervous.

"Well now, isn't this cozy, just you and me," he said threateningly.

"Don't you get any funny ideas now," Willow popped back, not the slightest bit intimidated.

"Why not? You know you'd love it!"

"Oh yeah! Right!" Willow answered, rolling her eyes at the same time.

"No, really! You know you've thought about it," Spike pressed on.

"Spike! It's not gonna happen!"

"Can't we just pick up where we left off in the dorm? Just one little bite, for old times' sake?"

"No!" Willow insisted as her voice slipped into a silly sarcastic tone, "We're just friends now. That's all it can be."

There was a long pause. Willow realized she couldn't avoid the insistent stare of Spike's eyes. Unable to avoid him, she finally turned away from the action on the VCR. Suddenly she was staring into his eyes. Then Spike leaned slowly forward towards Willow's neck. She saw his approach and, for a moment, she started to tip her head back, revealing the soft bare skin between her shoulder and jaw. As he was about to place his mouth and lips on her neck, Spike instantly yelled out in pain as the Initiative implant did its work.

"AAAHHH!"

Holding his forehead in his hands, Spike rolled around howling on the couch.

"I told you . . ." Willow grinned with a conspiratorial look.

Seeing he had been conned, Spike growled at Willow.

"Bitch!"

"Oooh . . . don't stop!" Willow cooed back with phoney passion, "I love it when you talk dirty!"

After a few moments more, Spike recovered, sat up next to Willow and sulked.

"You'd think you'd learn by now," Willow reminded him, "Spike, there just can't be anything between us. I mean, look at me. I'm a college girl, studying to be a full blown Wiccan. And you, you're just a washed up old vampire. What could we possibly have in common?"

". . . love? . . ." Spike looked up expectantly at Willow.

"Oh, Please!" Willow rolled her eyes again as she picked up the VCR remote and turned on the tape.

Both focused their attention on the soap opera on the tape. Muffled dialogue from the television filled the room.

"I never could get into this stuff," Willow said after a few moments, "What's going on?"

"Well, AJ's telling Helena to stay away from Carly who he thinks is pregnant with his baby," Spike began explaining the complex soap opera plot line, "What he doesn't realize is that the father is actually Sonny Karinthos, and Carly's been hiding it from him all along."

Willow and Spike watched the show intently for a few more minutes.

"But didn't Carly already tell Bobbie it was Sonny's baby?" Willow asked.

"She did?! I must've missed that. It was in yesterday's eppy. That explains a lot. Hey!" Spike suddenly grinned suspecting he had been conned again, "Wait a minute. I thought you didn't watch this trash!"

"Sshhh!" Willow snapped, "This is important! I can't hear."

Again, Willow and Spike stared at the television screen.

"I think Luke Spencer's kinda hot," Willow mused.

Spike turned to her in surprise.

". . . What? . . ." Willow exclaimed, not liking the the look on the vampire's face.

Spike snuggled in closer.

"I knew it!" he said seductively, "I always knew you had a thing for older men!"

Willow pulled away and glared at Spike in disgust while he leered back at her.

* * * * * * * * *

Go To Part 19 


	19. Infrared Burst in Block E375

**The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind**

**Chapter 19  
Infrared Burst in Block E375  
  
**_by Gaius Petronius_

DISCLAIMER:  
Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB, Fox and Mutant Enemy, Inc. This story can be read on its own or as a sequel to H. P. Lovecraft's "The Haunter of the Dark" from which the Ancient Ones, the Shining Trapezohedron and the character of Robert Blake are derived.

The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind is set roughly in mid-season four shortly following the death of Doyle but before the creation of Adam and the death of Maggie Walsh.

**Content Note:** This part is rated PG-13 for a little raunchy language**.**

*** * * * * * ***

Xander slowly reached for the door handle to Faith's room at the Sunnydale Convalescent Hospital. All the while, his eyes were riveted on the red glow issuing from beneath the door. He turned the handle, pushed the door open and stepped cautiously into the room.

Blocks away, two cars flew through the streets of a nearly deserted downtown Sunnydale in a mad dash to reach the Convalescent Hospital. Giles' beat up old Citroen closely followed by Angel's Belvedere GTX roared through the empty streets leaving clouds of dust and oily white exhaust in their wake. There was a loud screeching of tires as both vehicles banked into a corner and were barely able to hold the road.

Giles yanked hard on the steering wheel of the clunky Citroen causing the tires to scream on the pavement. Buffy, her hands firmly clenched to the dashboard, stared straight ahead in terror.

". . . easy, Giles! . . . easy!" she muttered in a near panic.

"Come on! Punch it, Giles!" Anya sang out as she bounced merrily back and forth on the rear seat, "Let's see what this tank can do!"

Giles yanked again on the steering wheel.

The Citroen, with the Belvedere hard on its tail, screeched around another corner. Both cars ran a red light, cutting off two other vehicles that missed them by inches. The oncoming cars on the cross street, swerved wildly, skidding to a stop, horns blaring.

In the Belvedere, Angel was driving hard to keep up with Giles' headlong race across the city. Beside him in the front seat, Kate leaned into each sharp turn. Behind her, Cordelia sat hunched forward in the back seat and hung on to the top of the front seat. As they sped through the red light, Kate turned to Angel.

"Hey . . ."

"What?" he answered, not taking his eyes off the speeding Citroen in front of them.

"I gotta arrest you for running that light," Kate said without cracking smile.

Angel quickly glanced at her and grinned.

"Sorry . . . bad habit," Kate confessed, "Oh, one other thing."

"What?" Angel asked.

"Lemme see your license and registration."

"Pfffsst! Yeah, right!" Cordelia laughed from the back seat.

Angel made a hard turn to the right. Swaying with the turn, Kate leaned sharply over against Angel as her long blond hair swept briefly against the side of his face. She quickly straightened up as the car pulled out onto an open straightaway. Angel glanced in her direction for a second then returned his attention to the road in front of him.

* * * * * *

The door swung slowly open to Faith's room as Xander entered. The few pieces of furniture, the bed, the walls, all were bathed in a deep red glow. Across the room by the window, Faith stood with her back to Xander and stared out at the night.

"Faith? . . ." Xander asked softly, his voice trembling, "What are you doing out of bed? Are you okay? . . . Where's Buffy?"

Slowly, Faith turned to face Xander. Xander's eyes widened in terror. As she stepped around, he realized it was not Faith staring back at him. In the place of her face, floated the blazing apparition of Nyarlethotep's red eye. Xander tried to turn away and run, but it was as if his feet were frozen to the floor, unresponsive to the commands from his mind.

The body of Faith almost floated up close to him. The voice of Nyarlethotep issued from the distortion that once was Faith's face. It was deep and the sound echoed as if it were traveling across vast vistas of space and time.

". . . Alexandros . . . It's been almost eighteen hundred years . . ."

The entity controlling Faith advanced to within inches of Xander who was now pressed against the wall of the room. The words seemed to be more than sound itself but rather thought that permeated every molecule of his being.

". . . payback time! . . ." it hissed.

Faith's hand shot out and grabbed Xander by the neck. She tightened her grip slowly.

"NO!" he gasped as the closing fist on his throat began to squeeze the life out of him, "Faith! Where are you?!"

"We must do this slowly," the entity whispered, "We have so few pleasures where he have been imprisoned. We must savor them when they . . ."

Nyarlethotep suddenly stopped in mid sentence. The image of Faith's head suddenly yanked backwards of its own accord as if an unseen entity had grabbed her from behind by the hair. Nyarlethotep roared in anger. At the same time, Xander squirmed out of Faith's loosening grip, but he remained frozen against the wall.

Faith tottered and buried the image of Nyarlethotep in her hands as she staggered back away from Xander. Her upper body began thrashing and twisting. As she swayed, her long black hair snapped from side to side like a whip. Then, in the middle of the room, she dropped to her knees and smothered her face and her hands on her folded legs before her.

From outside the window, a breeze suddenly rose. It stirred the hanging curtains and gently blew the loose strands of Faith's hair. At the same time, the red light that had bathed everything in the room winked out returning all the furniture to its soft natural colors once again.

Instinctively, Xander understood the transformation.

". . . Faith . . . ?" he whispered.

Slowly, Faith sat up straight. She pulled her hands away from her face and stared at Xander. It was her face now looking back at him, even though her eyes were still red. He recognized her immediately.

". . . Faith . . ." he said again.

Weakened from the struggle, Faith swayed back and forth on her knees as if she were about to topple over. She gasped and struggled to catch her breath.

"I knew that had to be you. . . . hey, lover boy," she smirked.

Xander didn't answer but instantly ran over and knelt down by her side. Her muscled slayer's body now felt limp and powerless like a rag doll as he held her up by the shoulders.

"I never thought I'd ever say this," he said as he wrapped his arms around her, trying to steady her as she swayed, "but . . . I'm glad to see you."

"Get the fuck away from me!" Faith suddenly snarled.

"What?" Xander exclaimed in surprise as he jumped up.

"I can't keep this thing out of me!" Faith cried, "Get outta here, Xander!"

Hesitating, Xander backed away, then stopped, refusing to move.

"Faith! What is it?"

"Get outta here!" she screamed at him, "Get Buffy!"

Xander, torn between staying with Faith and running for help, still didn't move for a moment.

"NOW, you moron!"

Shocked, Xander stumbled from the room.

Faith swayed on her knees, alone. Her body shivered as she struggled to maintain her balance. She grinned sadly to herself.

". . . sorry about that . . . lover boy," she whispered to the now empty room.

Xander burst out of Faith's room and ran wildly down the hallway. Mildly curious, a night orderly pushing the cart of dirty towels and bedding looked up at him as he flew by.

Outside, Giles' Citroen and Angel's Belvedere both screeched to a stop behind Xander's delivery truck. Buffy, Giles and Anya piled out followed by Angel, Kate and Cordelia from the GTX. All ran as one towards the front door of the Convalescent Hospital. Just as they reached the door, Xander staggered out right into Buffy's arms.

"Xander! Are you all right?" she exclaimed.

"Aw Geez!" he sputtered, looking back over his shoulder and panting.

"What is it? Where's Faith?!" Giles shouted.

"Which one?" Xander asked, all the while looking at Buffy.

"Huh?" Buffy said in confusion.

"You didn't tell me there was two of 'em in there!" he exclaimed to her.

"Xander . . . you're babbling," Giles announced trying to bring the situation under control.

"Oh, no, not this time G-man!" Xander shouted cutting off the Watcher, "Ya see, there's the Faith we all know and love! Mean, nasty, sell you out to the Mayor in a second . . . you know, the hot one. . . . and then, . . . there's this other one . . . !"

Xander stopped in mid sentence as he struggled with the image he had just seen. The Gang collected around Xander held their collective breath waiting for him to continue. Finally, Cordelia couldn't stand the silence any longer.

"XANDER!" she shouted.

"Oh, . . . hi Cordelia. When did you get here?"

"What did you see, you idiot?!"

"HEY! " Anya squalled, her voice laced with jealousy, "He's mine! Only I get to call him that!"

"Shut up, Anya!" Cordelia replied firmly as she turned to face Xander directly.

"Spit it out, jerkface!" she snapped as if she and Xander were still juniors dating each other at Sunnydale High.

"Well, the other Faith . . ." he finally stammered, "She's got no face . . . and there's like this eye where her face is supposed to be."

Without waiting for Xander to finish, Buffy, followed by Giles, raced up the stairs and barged through the front door into the lobby. The others followed in a rush.

In a moment more, the door to Faith's room flew open as the Scooby Gang charged in en masse. The bed and room were empty and the window wide open to the night air. Angel stepped up to the open window and called out into the darkness.

"Faith! Faith!"

"It's too late. She's long gone by now," Giles muttered in discouragement.

"It's not her, Giles," Buffy said ominously, "That thing has taken her over."

"She said she couldn't hold it off for long," Xander added.

"You talked to her?" Buffy asked.

"Yeah," he continued, "She sort of beat it back for a second and told me to run and get you."

Buffy paused, her mind racing as she struggled to come up with her next move.

"Okay, people, listen up," Kate suddenly volunteered, sensing the Slayer's confusion, "It's taken over Faith's body 'cause it's after something. If we know what it wants, then we know where it's headed."

"The Shining Trapezohedron!" Giles muttered with fear.

"MacDuffie's shop! She's headed to the shop!" Buffy exclaimed.

"We're on it! Let's move!" Kate shouted to the others.

The whole gang turned as one and ran out of the room. They all stampeded down the hallway, past the orderly pushing the laundry cart. The orderly glanced up momentarily at the rush of activity, then went about her business with hardly a murmur.

*** * * * * * * ***

Anson MacDuffie stood alone on the edge of the sidewalk in front of the New Age Curiosity Shop and faced out into the darkened street. He still grasped the ancient sword which he now held down at his side. A distant sound of footfalls in the night broke the silence. At the end of the street almost out a vision, a small female figure dressed all in black stepped around a corner and advanced towards him. He strode forward to meet her.

As she approached, it became clear to the Guardian, that this must be the other slayer, Faith. Her black hair was disheveled and her face overspread with a mixture of exhaustion and despair. She stopped about ten yards in front of him in the middle of the square and stared in puzzlement.

"Do I know you?" she whispered.

"No, we've never met," he answered calmly.

"Then who the hell are you?" Faith asked.

". . . a friend . . ."

"That's what they all say," Faith said sarcastically, "Where the hell am I?"

"Your Slayer's Spirit led you here."

"I can't handle this much longer," Faith said, clearly weakening, "It's so strong . . . do you know Buffy?"

". . . she and the others . . . they're coming," MacDuffie nodded reassuringly.

"I can't do this any more, I'm so tired," Faith sighed and stared down vacantly at the pavement in front of her.

The old Guardian stepped up to Faith and spoke quietly, his words somehow comforting to the exhausted Slayer.

". . . Faith . . . don't despair! . . . You are well named. You wield more power than you can possibly imagine . . . Nyarlethotep knows that . . . and fears you!"

Faith slowly looked up at MacDuffie. Her eyes, still blood red, were wide with amazement.

"How come I know you?" Faith whispered.

"That's my bonnie lassie! . . . now you see it!" the Guardian exclaimed with excitement. Faith realized she was drinking in his words.

"It's you! . . . _You are the one,_ not Buffy!" he cried out in triumph and his voice jolted Faith with a surge of strength, "You are the one . . . who'll save the world!"

Before she could rally, Faith suddenly cried out in pain. Her body contorted as she writhed back and forth. She buried her face in her hands briefly and when the convulsions stopped, she looked back up at MacDuffie but it was no longer her face staring out at him but rather the three lobed burning eye of Nyarlethotep. MacDuffie stepped back and raised the sword.

As he did, Nyarlethotep spoke in its deep, hollow voice through the image of Faith.

"Brave words, Guardian!" the voice echoed, "But that's all they are . . . words!"

"She knows!" MacDuffie shouted as he raised the sword in front of him, "What you sought to conceal from her, she knows! And with that knowledge, the doom of the Ancient Ones is sealed!"

The sound of racing car engines pierced the stillness of the square and grew louder and louder with each passing second. The Citroen and the GTX burst out of a cross street near the shop and screamed to a halt by the alley housing the dumpster. Buffy, followed by Xander, Anya and Giles, clambered out of the beat up Citroen. Angel vaulted over the closed driver's side door of the convertible and Kate did the same on the passenger side. Cordelia scrambled out of the back seat in a more conventional fashion by opening and slamming the door.

"Show offs!" she complained to herself.

Buffy marched out into the street at a fast walk with Xander close behind her. Both rapidly approached MacDuffie and Faith. Giles held his arms out to restrain the others at the sidewalk near the cars.

"All of you keep back! We don't know what we're dealing with here," he warned.

"Xander!" Anya cried out.

". . . what the flaming hell is that . . . ?" Kate muttered as she stared at the image of Nyarlethotep's blazing red eye blended into Faith's body.

" . . exactly . . ." Angel answered.

Kate, her mouth hanging open, cast a quick sideways glance at Angel.

"Faith! . . . Faith!" Buffy called out as she drew closer to the Guardian and the other Slayer.

The apparition of Nyarlethotep turned its head to look at Buffy. There were no recognizable features of Faith's face, only the hazy, out of focus image of the three lobed burning eye.

At the same time, deep in the darkness of her mind, Faith, exhausted, leaned against the towering gray blocks of the wall that stretched in all directions. Suddenly she perked up as she heard Buffy's faint voice calling.

"Faith! Faith! It's me!" Buffy's voice echoed over and over.

"Buffy! Buffy!" Faith screamed in despair.

A wind began to stir, blowing Faith's thick black hair. She turned in a fury against the wall that imprisoned her and rained a hail of blows against the silent stones.

"Goddamn it! Let me outta here! Buffy! Buffy!"

In the street, Xander halted in fear and wouldn't follow Buffy any further.

"Uh, Buffy!" he called out, "That's not the Faith we know and love! It think it's _the other one!"_

Buffy ignored Xander's warning. Passing MacDuffie, as she got within a few feet of Faith when the other slayer leaped forward, grabbed Buffy's arm and shoulder with lightning speed, lifted her up and pitched her almost twenty feet down the pavement. Instinctively, Buffy sought to roll so that the impact would not be concentrated in one part of her body. Nevertheless, she struck the concrete curb of the sidewalk at the side of the street hard and lay momentarily stunned.  
  
"Buffy!" Angel shouted as he dashed past Giles to Buffy's side. In an instant, Kate followed him and, as the two reached Buffy, Kate dropped to one knee and drew her service revolver. She aimed it directly at Faith. Angel swung his arm out, pushing aside the weapon.

"NO!" he shouted to Kate as he shoved her hand holding the gun down towards the pavement, "You'll only kill Faith! It won't hurt that thing at all!"

"That one is weaker," the Ancient One hissed to MacDuffie indicating Buffy.

Xander backed up and hovered at the Guardian's side.

"We're not winning at this table, are we," Xander cracked fearfully to MacDuffie.

"I've held better hands before," he answered in quiet desperation, "You and Anya get back to the shop and prepare to fire up your 'defense perimeter.'"

"Right!" Xander's eyes lit up.

"But you have to wait until it comes out of Faith's body," MacDuffie whispered urgently before Xander could take off, "While it is still in her, it is subject to the laws of this universe. Light will not effect it. Only when it assumes its true manifestation does it gain all the powers . . . _and weaknesses . . . _of the alternate universe from which it came. You must wait until it is free of her body! I'll try to draw it out. Go!"

"Got it!" Xander grinned as he turned and ran back to the Scooby Gang. When he reached the pavement in front of the shop, he grabbed Anya by the shoulder and dragged her along with him inside.

"What are you doing?!" she snapped, "You wanna have sex NOW?!"

Ignoring her complaint, Xander scrambled in through the front door with Anya in tow. The shop was dark and both stumbled over chairs and banged into counters.

"Quick! Plug in the 220 cord!" Xander shouted.

Immediately, Anya followed one particularly fat stretch of cable to the back wall by the storage room. The bizarre illumination from the Shining Trapezohedron leaked through cracks in the door. As she rammed the cable into the socket, she looked up fearfully, color from a spectrum of another universe bathing her face.

"You got juice!" she called out over her shoulder.

She quickly rejoined Xander who stood poised over the power switch and stared out the front window at the confrontation between MacDuffie and Nyarlethotep.

Still partly stunned, Buffy sat up at the curb where she had landed and shook the butterflies out of her head. Powerless to intervene, she, Angel and Kate watched MacDuffie step slowly and forcefully towards Faith.

"What the hell is he doing?" Buffy exclaimed.

MacDuffie halted a few feet in front of the Faith. Her face was now completely submerged beneath the image of Nyarlethotep's burning eye.

"You will not have the Shining Trapezohedron!"

"Stand aside, Guardian!" Nyarlethotep commanded, "The Ancient Ones will claim what is theirs!"

"Not in that manifestation you won't!" the Guardian announced sarcastically.

For a moment there was silence as if Nyarlethotep were confused by MacDuffie's pronouncement.

"The body you inhabit limits you to the laws of this universe," he continued, "And in that form, you will not get by me!"

"You take me for a fool!" the Ancient One growled.

In the darkness at the base of the massive wall, Faith leaned against the cold stones as she listened intently to the exchange between MacDuffie and Nyarlethotep. The wind which moments before was only a gentle breeze, now had picked up force and whipped around Faith tossing her black hair wildly across her face.

"You Bastard!" she seethed with anger at Nyarlethotep, "You fucking bastard! You get outta my goddamn body!"

Faith raised her hands in front of her and placed them against the massive stone wall. This time, instead of being thwarted by the gray blocks, her hands passed through as if the wall had no substance. Realizing what was happening, Faith grinned with malicious glee.

"Look out, SUCKA!" she snarled.

At the same time, in the square before the shop, MacDuffie raised his sword which now emitted a glowing golden light.

"You will not take the Crystal in that form," he announced again, "And you will not get by me!"

"You would have me abandon this Slayer's body so that your followers may reclaim it?!" the flaming entity controlling Faith's body scoffed.

"As long as you hold that body you have no powers here," MacDuffie argued logically, "But if you manifest your true form, you could easily reduce me to a pile of charred ash!"

"And at the same time expose the Ancient Ones before the Void opens?!" Nyarlethotep screamed back, "That's what you want Guardian! This one is the strongest among you. I have sufficient strength in this Slayer's body to seize the Crystal. Do you think the Ancient Ones are so stupid as to . . ."

Suddenly, as in Faith's room in the Convalescent Hospital, Faith's head twisted backwards as if she had been grabbed from behind by the throat and hair. Nyarlethotep roared in anger. Faith's body writhed and turned in a furious struggle with her unseen attacker. In a moment, the three lobed burning eye detached from her face and, as a cloud of red mist, floated away from Faith and coalesced into a form a dozen yards behind her. A sudden wind whipped down the street snatching up pieces of trash and small chunks of debris, hurling them in all directions.

Faith, freed of the image of Nyarlethotep, dropped to her knees on the pavement.

"And stay the fuck out!" she muttered before she passed out and toppled over in the street. Buffy leaped to her feet, pushed Angel aside and broke into a run towards the crippled Slayer.

"Faith! FAITH!" she cried over and over.

Blocks away in the Command Center of the Initiative, technicians and camouflaged Initiative Soldiers rushed back and forth. Seated before a bank of monitors, Hunter watched one screen with wide eyed intensity.

"Agent Riley! Sir!" he suddenly called out.

Riley stepped out of the crowd of Initiative soldiers and joined Hunter by the screen.

"Whatcha ya got, Hunter?"

"It's an infrared burst, Sir! Biggest yet! Right off the scale!"

"Where?" Riley asked bending over the screen with Hunter.

"Here! Block E375," Hunter pointed to a point on the monitor. He quickly cross referenced the location on a second readout.

"Pretty empty part of town," he said puzzled as he ran his finger down the list on the neighboring screen, "Looks like a second hand camera store and some kinda weird herb or magic shop."

Riley, his brow furrowed with worry, stared intently at the screen.

"That's the place Willow hangs out . . ." he whispered to himself.

"Sir?" Hunter looked up in surprise.

Swaying back and forth in the rising wind before the Scooby Gang, the form of Nyarlethotep surged upwards, materializing into a nightmare entity over thirty feet high. The spawn from the Void before time and space spread its monstrous webbed wings. Its fingered claws stretched and flexed as if experiencing true motion for the first time in years. The three lobed burning eye swirled rhythmically on the end of its long snake like neck.

"You wanted it this way, Guardian!" it roared against the wind, "The Trapezohedron is Ours!"

As Buffy reached Faith's side and dropped down beside her, the eye of Nyarlethotep released an enormous globule of flaming plasma surging in her direction. Buffy spread her body across Faith's in a futile attempt to protect the fallen Slayer.

At the same instant, MacDuffie leaped between the oncoming fiery missile and the two Slayers. He raised his sword, now glowing furiously with a shield like aura, in front of him so that the blade faced flat edge outwards. The blazing globule of molten plasma struck the golden light of the sword and scattered into smaller balls of liquid fire that splattered in all directions. Several started blazes where they landed. Others soared into the sky like a nightmare display of fireworks. Staggered, the Guardian dropped to his knees. The golden light surrounding the sword faltered.

Across town, Spike and Willow were still seated side by side on the couch in front of the VCR. Suddenly, Willow's eyes widened with alarm, and she sat bolt upright.

"I gotta get the hell outta here!" she yelled.

"Hey! I didn't lay a fang on you!" Spike complained in disappointment.

"Screw you!" Willow snapped as she ran for the door.

"You're supposed to stay and keep an eye on me! I'm rotten, you know!" Spike whined after her, "I could break into Giles' liquor cubby and drink up all his precious scotch. . . . or light the flat on fire!"

"Knock yerself out!" Willow yelled over her shoulder as she slammed the door shut and ran off into the night.

Inside the Curiosity Shop, the red blaze of light from the fireball illuminated the walls and ceiling as well as Xander and Anya standing by the window. Xander, his face bathed in horror, cried out.

"BUFFY!"

With all his weight, Xander plunged both hands, palms first, down on the power switches controlling the banks of lighting. There was a sharp popping sound from the wiring and a snapping flash of electricity from the control panel.

In the street, the entire bank of floodlights and spots lining the front of the shop suddenly burst alive with a blaze of illumination that lit up the square brighter than the brilliant California noon day sun. Giles, Cordelia, Angel and Kate winced and covered their faces from the piercing brilliance. Buffy spread her body across Faith as if she were shielding her from the flood of light. All around them, the wind whirled and thundered, swaying the electrical equipment back and forth in its stands.

Up the street, beyond the kneeling form of MacDuffie, the surge of light illuminated Nyarlethotep from top to bottom. The Ancient One extended its neck skyward and a scream rang out from the three lobed eye that shook the ground and caused several of the Scooby Gang to stagger.

As the wall of light bathed the Ancient One, the red glow surrounding it dimmed sharply. The physical appearance of its skin began to transform as shreds dropped away from its body and whole portions of its flesh vaporized into swirling clouds of crimson mist. In a few seconds, the light reduced the form of Nyarlethotep to an incoherent foaming cloud of fragments and particles.

Then the same wind, which had been blowing in all directions, suddenly concentrated its force against the monstrous disintegrating form of Nyarlethotep. Like an invisible hand, it struck the Ancient One head on and scattered the crimson red cloud into nothingness as if it were a retreating bank of fog over the ocean, melting away before the morning sun.

In the Initiative Command Center, Hunter, who was still studying the monitor, suddenly sat back in surprise. Riley sensed Hunter's confusion.

"What is it?" he asked.

"It's gone, sir!" Hunter replied, completely confused by the jumble of altered readings rolling across the monitor.

"What do you mean?"

"The infrared power surge," Hunter said scratching his head, "It was here a second ago, and now it's just . . . gone!"

Just as quickly, the wind itself in the square vanished and all was suddenly still. Buffy slowly looked up from her position over the prostrate body of Faith. MacDuffie, still on his knees, tottered and planted the point of the sword in the pavement before him leaning on it for support. Up and down the street, small fires burned where splattered fragments of the blazing globule landed. In the distance, the first wail of approaching fire trucks echoed faintly among the scorched buildings. The wall of flood lights snapped off leaving the street shrouded in night once more.

Giles, Cordelia, Kate and Angel, still in shock and rubbing their eyes, all stood motionless where they were. Suddenly, Xander burst running from out of the shop towards Buffy and Faith.

"Buffy! Buffy!" he cried out, and he knew there were tears running down his face but he didn't care what anyone thought.

"Hey! Wait up!" Anya called out as she bounded off the sidewalk after him.

Xander skidded to his knees in the middle of the square beside Buffy and Faith.

"Buffy! Are you all right?!" he stammered out of breath.

"Yeah," she said quietly as the blaze from the flames all around them cast flickering shadows across their faces and down the pavement.

At first, Buffy didn't look at Xander. Her gaze was fixed on Faith who stared back up at her with the light of recognition in her blood red eyes. At the same time, Anya reached the three in the middle of the street and stood directly behind the kneeling Xander.

"Faith? . . ." Buffy whispered, "Can you hear me?"

". . . hey . . . 'B' . . ." Faith murmured, but Buffy could tell she was fading fast.

Faith turned her gaze to Xander.

". . . thanks for the backup . . . lover boy . . ."

Suddenly Faith's body trembled. Her red eyes glassed over, and it was clear she no longer recognized the faces staring down at her. Her consciousness had slipped away once more, leaving only the shell of a Slayer's body lying by Buffy and Xander's side. Her chest barely moved with short shallow breaths.

"Lover boy?" Anya bitched, "She called you 'lover boy!?' Xander I want to know right now what . . ."

"Shut the fuck up . . ." Xander snarled, cutting her off. Anya gasped.

At the same time, Buffy reached down and smoothed Faith's long black hair back off her forehead.

Somewhere in the black Aether of the Void, Faith, her eyes closed, lay silently on her back at the foot of the once more impenetrable wall. She hardly breathed but on her face slowly appeared the faintest hint of a smile. A wisp of a breeze barely stirred several stands of her black hair on her forehead.

In the square, MacDuffie suddenly loomed up from behind Faith, Buffy, Xander and Anya. Buffy, her face not concealing her despair, looked up at him for some reassuring sign, but his eyes clearly said he had none to give.

At the curbside, Kate scrambled to her feet and wiped her brow in relief.

"Holy shit!" she exclaimed, "I'm glad that's over!"

Angel only stared at the pavement and didn't answer.

"What? . . ." she asked, now sensing something was very wrong, "What is it, Angel!? This _is over? ANGEL?!"_

Still Angel didn't reply. Giles and Cordelia suddenly appeared at Kate and Angel's side. Giles spoke quietly.

"Lt. Lockley," he said ominously, "This was only a skirmish."

"Wait a minute . . . are you telling me . . . ?"

Kate didn't finish the sentence as the impact of Giles' words sank in.

Giles spoke quietly as he stared out into the street at the group around Faith.

"It'll be back tomorrow night . . .with the planetary conjunction . . . leading the rest of the Ancient Ones."

"But we can beat it, can't we Giles?" Cordelia asked, her voice quivering, "I mean, we did tonight."

"Just barely . . . " he answered staring out into the street towards Faith, "And the cost may have been too dear."

In the center of the street, Xander, his face mirroring Buffy's despair, looked up at MacDuffie.

"We can't just leave her here!" he suddenly cried out and his face was wet again.

"Of course not," the old Guardian answered quietly, "I'll bring her inside."

"No!" Buffy shouted protectively.

MacDuffie and Xander stared at her in surprise. Buffy looked back down at Faith and gazed on the comatose Slayer's now peaceful features.

"I will . . ." she said quietly but firmly.

In a second, Buffy slipped one arm under Faith's shoulders and the other under her waist. Even though Faith was larger, Buffy swept her up in her arms as if she were the gentlest of burdens.

She then turned and slowly bore the fallen Slayer, whose arms and legs dangled down limply, towards the sidewalk and the front door of the shop. Xander and MacDuffie quickly dropped in place along side her. Understanding what was happening, Angel, Giles, Cordelia and Kate rapidly crossed out into the street to join them. Not to be left behind, Anya reluctantly took up the rear.

As the group with Buffy at its head wound across the pavement, the scattered fires burned, crackled and cast the whole scene in a unearthly flickering glow. Clouds of smoke swept around Buffy as she bore Faith in the strangely illuminated night and small tongues of flame burst up every now and then as if they were witnesses, indeed participants in a pagan funeral procession for a fallen hero in another time.

Then, in a moment more, the entire group disappeared into the shop as the wail of the fire truck sirens, like the circling moan of banshees just beyond the edge of vision, grew louder with each passing second.

**Go to Chapter 20**


	20. I my loving watch am keeping

**The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind**

**Chapter 20  
"I my loving watch am keeping."  
  
**_by Gaius Petronius_

DISCLAIMER:  
Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB, Fox and Mutant Enemy, Inc. This story can be read on its own or as a sequel to H. P. Lovecraft's "The Haunter of the Dark" from which the Ancient Ones, the Shining Trapezohedron and the character of Robert Blake are derived.

The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind is set roughly in mid-season four shortly following the death of Doyle but before the creation of Adam and the death of Maggie Walsh.

**Content Note:** This part is rated PG-13 for a little raunchy language.

* * * * * * * *

The first rays of dawn slipped through the front windows of the New Age Curiosity Shop and spread slowly and inexorably across the interior. The morning light revealed everything inside the shop in complete disarray. Display cases were all pushed to the side; a table with Xander's control panel for the floodlights was shoved up near the front window. Anya slouched in front of the controls but she only twiddled them absent mindedly with her fingers. Cordelia stood by the front window and stared outside at the dawn. A few folding chairs were scattered around the room.

In the back corner, near the entrance to the storage room, MacDuffie's desk was shoved away and, in it's place, was opened a small canvas cot covered with a thin blanket. Faith, deathly pale and her eyes closed, lay silent and unmoving on the cot. Every once in a while, her chest heaved as she breathed slowly.

Buffy and Xander sat at either side of the cot. They hovered over Faith like mystical beings charged with an eternal watch over a slumbering warrior goddess. Xander held Faith's motionless hand firmly between his and rubbed it gently. Buffy lifted a cool wet washcloth and every so often ran it across Faith's forehead. She then took her other hand and fussed with Faith's hair that drooped down over the comatose Slayer's eyes. There was no sign Faith recognized anything around her. Nevertheless, neither Buffy nor Xander would break their vigil.

Outside in the bright morning sun, Giles, MacDuffie, Willow and Kate stood together as a group with a uniformed Sunnydale policeman. All watched silently as the last of several fire trucks pulled away from the curb and drove off down the street. Wisps of smoke and steam rose from scattered locations along the street. MacDuffie shifted uncomfortably as if his hip were in serious pain. Willow, with a worried look on her face, eyed him. Finally, the policeman turned to Giles.

"You folks didn't see anything else?" the officer asked perfunctorily.

"No," Giles replied as he ran his hand through his hair, "Like I said, there was just the roar of the earthquake, and then all the fires broke out. I presumed it was the gas lines rupturing."

Puzzled, the policeman shook his head.

"Funny how that old couple in the apartment up the way kept babbling about some flying creature . . ."

"Officer? . . ." MacDuffie quickly interjected.

As the policeman looked at MacDuffie, the shop owner pantomimed with his hand somebody drinking from a bottle of liquor.

"You may be right," the officer grinned, "Anyway, give the department a call if you can think of anything else."

"Of course," Giles said flatly.

The policeman walked over to a squad car, climbed in and drove away following the route of the fire trucks up the empty street. All four stared silently as the squad car crossed the open square and disappeared down a side street. Kate shuffled nervously.

"Shouldn't we get Faith to a hospital . . .?" she finally asked, "Or at least back to Sunnydale Convalescent? They might be able to treat her or at least make her more comfortable."

"Lt. Lockley, I'm afraid there's no treatment for what she has experienced," Giles replied, "The damage is not to her body . . . but to her soul."

The LAPD detective pondered his words.

"Besides," Giles continued as he glanced over at MacDuffie, "I don't believe her two new . . . 'Guardians' . . . would permit it."

All four now walked slowly back to the front window of the shop and stared in towards the rear of the display area.

Buffy and Xander still sat reverently by Faith's side. As Buffy wiped the Slayer's brow with the cloth and Xander massaged her hand, Faith gave a small sigh as if, after all her years of emotional turmoil, she was finally at peace with herself and content. Grasping at any sign of hope, Buffy looked up at Xander and flashed him a tentative smile. Xander grinned sadly back.

Kate shook her head and walked aimlessly away from the others past the floodlights down the sidewalk in front of the closed camera store. Willow had been furtively studying the LAPD detective since she reached the shop after the late night confrontation with Nyarlethotep. Now her curiosity got the better of her. Quickly she joined Kate as she paced the sidewalk. Together they halted in front of the next door display window filled with camera equipment.

"Hi! I don't think we've been introduced," she said, trying to be perky and mustering her best trademark grin, "I'm Willow Rosenberg. I'm a friend of Buffy's."

"Yes, I know," Lockley's response was far from enthusiastic. She still wrestled in her mind with the nightmare visions of just a few hours earlier.

"And you're Kate Lockley from LA?" Willow persisted, "You're Angel's friend?"

"Yeah, sort of . . . " Kate smiled slightly, nodding her head with uncertainty, "I guess."

"Where'd he go?" Willow asked looking around.

Kate just shrugged and held her hand out indicating the sunlight.

"Sewers . . ."

"Oh, I know that!" Willow grinned again, "No idea what he was looking for, though?"

Kate shook her head.

"He's probably searching for clues or some way to fight this thing," Willow continued trying to be sympathetic. Something in her liked the tall, mature but confused woman in front of her who was trying to come to some understanding of just who Angel was.

"He never stops," Willow added, "But he _is_ always disappearing like that."

"Don't I know it," Kate muttered to herself.

Willow stared intently at Kate who realized she was the subject of scrutiny. Willow flashed her trademark grin again.

"Don't worry," Willow said sympathetically, "I've known Angel for a while. It'll be okay."

"What?" Kate asked, not sure whether she should be reading anything into Willow's plain speech.

For a moment, Willow's grin took on a girl to girl conspiratorial appearance. Then all at once, her face changed, as if she could see the centuries of Angel's torment and the years that lay ahead.

It was a totally new feeling for the young Wiccan. Willow had "sensed" things before, brief flashes of events she knew had yet to occur as well as sensations of past actions somehow embodied in small objects associated with those deeds.

But this was something even more intense. For the first time as she stared at Kate, Willow clearly could see a long path of events stretching far off into the eventual future. She was awed and at the same time confused.

Kate picked up on the emotion immediately.

"What's wrong? Are you all right," the policewoman asked.

"It'll take time," Willow answered slowly as if in a dream, looking away from Kate and out at the smoke in the street, "It won't be soon, but . . . he will be free someday . . . Just be patient with him . . . okay?"

"Sure . . . okay . . ." Kate nodded in reply, surprised at her own words.

Inside the shop, Anya still sat in front of the control box for Xander's "defense perimeter" and twiddled with the controls. Cordelia, who herself was lost for something to do, spotted the uncharacteristically silent and discouraged former vengeance demon. She walked over from the window and pulled up a folding chair next to Anya and her control panel.

"Hey, what's with you?" Cordelia asked, trying to sound perky.

Anya didn't answer but only looked away towards Xander seated at Faith's side.

"It's all right," Cordelia continued, now understanding what was going through the ex-demon's mind. "Hang in there," she said calmly, at the same time looking over her shoulder towards Xander. "He'll come around."

"When I was a demon, I roasted guys like him without even a second thought," Anya said quietly, "But, now . . ."

"If it's any help, I know what you're feeling," Cordelia replied. She still struggled with the faint remnants of the hideous physical and emotional scars she experienced after discovering Xander and Willow in each others arms in the old factory two years earlier.

"Then Xander lied!" Anya blurted out, "You two _did have sex_!"

"Actually . . . no . . ." Cordelia said wistfully, "He told the truth. We never got that far."

Not understanding, Anya stared at Cordelia.

"Ya see, he could never get over that thing for Willow," Cordelia explained all the while trying to resist the emotions she felt welling beneath the surface, "And he hurt me real bad . . ."

"Then Xander and Willow had sex!" the former vengeance demon exclaimed.

". . . no . . ." Cordelia said so softly Anya nearly missed it.

"Then you dumped Xander and summoned me because he didn't have sex with Willow?" Anya asked with eyebrows raised in complete confusion.

". . . no . . . " Cordelia explained patiently, "Because he wanted to have sex with her . . ."

Cordelia paused and thought for a moment. From the distance of almost two years things seemed suddenly clearer now but none the less painful.

". . . no . . . because whether they had sex or not . . . he loved her . . . more than he loved me."

"And what about me?" Anya asked, her voice quivering, "Why's he in there with Faith now and not with me?"

"'Cause she was _his first lover_," Cordelia explained gently, "And I guess he didn't realize until today that . . . she meant something to him."

"Then I'm just . . ." Anya whimpered.

"No, no," Cordelia interrupted, placing her hand on Anya's shoulder and trying to soothe the ex-demon's faltering emotions, "This may be hard for a Vengeance Demon because of your 'unique perspective.'"

Cordelia paused for a moment, considering carefully what she was about to say. Finally satisfied in her mind she looked directly at Anya.

"I've always believed when two people make love," she continued gently, "And they care for each other when they do, well, there's something there that's created and it never leaves. They may change, fight, end up hating each other but if they cared at that one moment, no matter how hard they try to forget . . . no matter how badly things go after that, the emotion they created together when they loved each other, that has a life of it's own . . . and lives on, . . . as long as they're both alive. They may not love each other anymore but they remember . . . that they once did."

"I thought Faith had sex with anybody?" Anya said scornfully.

"She did," Cordelia answered with a malicious grin, "She also threw Xander out and tried to kill him later."

"I'm feeling better already," Anya grinned, but suddenly the smile vanished from her face.

"Wait . . . she called him 'lover boy,'" Anya exclaimed as the despair returned to her voice.

"Maybe when Faith saw how much he really cared . . ." Cordelia answered shrugging her shoulders, "Well, she realized she did once, too . . . more than she ever could or wanted to admit at the time."

Anya stared at the floor.

"Then I'd better leave now," she said with a gloomy pout, "He won't want me anymore."

Cordelia realized she still wasn't getting through. A new approach was going to be necessary.

"Anya," she asked, "How would you feel if Xander died?"

Anya gasped and looked up at Cordelia.

"See? Now imagine what he's feeling," Cordelia said gently, "He's watching _his first lover_ . . . die."

Anya's eyes widened as she finally understood.

"He needs you now more than anything."

Suddenly Xander appeared standing in front of both Cordelia and Anya.

"What are you two plotting?" he said with little enthusiasm in his voice.

"Nothing," Cordelia grinned with just enough of the Cordelia malicious glint in her eyes to make him worried, "Just making sure your lady love here knows the score."

"Oh, crap," he exclaimed as he rolled his eyes up to the ceiling.

"Remember what I just said," Cordelia called out over her shoulder to Anya as she got up and walked to the other end of the shop to stand by Buffy. Xander held out his hand to Anya who took it and slipped up out of her chair.

"I gotta get outta here," Xander muttered, shaking his head, "Let's go for a walk."

Anya wrapped her arm around Xander's waist as the two turned and headed for the door.

"So," he quipped insecurely "What vicious, unflattering and generally mean and rotten things did my ex say about me now? She's still evil, you know."

Anya ignored his joking.

"Xander? . . ." she asked softly, "How's Faith doing?"

Xander stopped walking momentarily. A little puzzled, he turned and stared at her. She grinned back at him and her blue eyes glowed with affection. Xander could see her emotions pouring out openly for him to take and hold as his own. Gently in fun, he rapped his knuckles softly on her forehead.

"Knock, knock? Hello? To the unnamed entity that's now living in Anya's body. You've blown your cover 'cause the real Anya wants to kill girls I used to hang out with."

"No, Xander, really. . . how's she doing?"

Suddenly the wise cracking front Xander relied on so heavily failed him.

"Not so hot," he muttered after a moment of struggling to control his own feelings, "She still hasn't come out of it since . . ."

Xander couldn't finish the sentence but rather just bit his lip. He and Anya resumed walking together through the front door of the shop out onto the street under the bright morning sun. Nearby, Kate and Willow turned to watch them as they headed in the opposite direction down the debris strew sidewalk.

"But she's gonna be all right?" Anya asked encouragingly.

Xander stumbled for the words, answering her in almost a whisper.

"I . . . I don't know."

Anya and Xander stopped a few yards up the sidewalk from the shop. She turned to him and wrapped her arms around him in a firm embrace. Slowly he did the same. Anya slid her body up against his and put her cheek against the side of his face, rubbing it softly. At the same time, Xander buried his face in her wavy blond hair. He gave a deep sigh that almost verged on a sob. They stood together silently in each other's arms for a long time.

Watching from in front of the camera store, Willow struggled to hold her own emotions in check as her heart sank at the sight of her childhood best bud suffering. She wanted to run to him, throw her arms around him, smile as wide as she could and prod him for a joke. This was her Xander who was now in pain, who used to bring her salamanders just to make her scream, who always laughed and could be counted on to raise everyone's spirits in the darkest hours with a witty crack. It was her Xander, the one who broke her heart and yet she still treasured him.

But he wasn't hers anymore. Maybe he never really ever was. Standing on the sidewalk, she finally realized he was truly someone else's just as she was as well. She couldn't comfort him now and that's what hurt the most. He was in pain and it was someone else's job to wipe his tears away.

Suddenly, Willow saw something else, something she knew no one else on the street could see. Through the steam rising from the burned buildings, Willow saw an image of vast distances stretching away from where the whole Scooby Gang stood in the darkness. They were all huddled together and about twenty feet in front of them stood Faith by herself in front of what appeared to be a tunnel of light lined with shadowy figures waiting in anticipation, for what, Willow couldn't be sure.

In a twinkling, Faith began walking forward into the light and Willow gasped as she realized that it was the old shopkeeper, MacDuffie who stood at the forefront of the passage leading beyond space and time. He reached out to the Slayer, took her hand and in a moment both were gone along with the other translucent figures. Willow quietly sobbed as she realized she was watching an ending that she knew must come to pass.

In an instant, she suddenly realized she was back on the street and that Kate was staring intently at her.

"That Faith's a real bitch!" Willow stammered as she wiped the wetness away from her own cheek, "She tried to kill all of us, you know."

"So I heard," Kate answered sympathetically.

". . . That's why we hate her guts . . ." Willow said finally as she wiped her face again with her sleeve.

"Hey . . . come on . . . get a grip here, Red . . ." and Kate reached out and took Willow gently but firmly by the shoulders.

". . . that's what Faith calls me . . ." Willow smiled slightly as she wiped her eyes again.

"It's a good name," LAPD detective answered honestly, "Listen, I may only be a cop, but I think I know what'll get everybody outta this funk and back up and running."

". . . what? . . ." Willow sniffled.

Kate grinned broadly and put her hands on her hips as if she were now fully in charge.

"Donuts!" she announced.

Willow couldn't help but smile. She snickered as she wiped her eyes one last time with her sleeve.

"Right?" Kate demanded.

"I am kinda hungry."

"Okay, guys!" Kate yelled out, "Who's up for donuts! It's on me!"

"Me! me! me!" Cordelia's voice sang out from inside the shop.

Xander and Anya were still in each other's arms, his face unmoving from her shoulder. Suddenly, as if it were purely a reflex reaction, Xander's arm shot up in the air and waved back and forth. A moment later, Giles lifted his hand and twiddled his fingers signaling that he was in as well. He quickly gave MacDuffie a disapproving glance.

". . . well? . . ." he prodded the Guardian.

"Oh, all right," MacDuffie replied, "I'll have what he's having." He thumbed at Giles at the same time.

"And Buffy . . . don't forget Buffy. She likes donuts, too," Willow added to Kate's mental list.

"Good. Two dozen outta do it. Let's go," Kate declared as she turned to head down the sidewalk.

"Make it three," Willow added as she hurried to keep up with the blond policewoman, "You don't know Xander and Cordelia. They fight over the jellies."

Willow and Kate walked briskly together.

"How are we gonna find a donut shop?" Willow asked as the two approached the bend in the street.

"Hey, you're with a cop, right? I can smell these things."

Willow and Kate disappeared around the corner. As they left, Giles turned to MacDuffie who was still favoring one leg.

"Are you all right?"

"Bloody thing is still serviceable. But just barely," the Guardian replied as he massaged his leg just above the knee.

For a few moments, neither men spoke.

"You're a bastard," Giles finally said quietly but sternly.

"What?" MacDuffie looked up as if the words had been a sword thrust between the ribs.

"You heard me," Giles said again without hesitation, "You're a bloody stinking bastard."

"Rupert, you're going to have to give me a little more to go on than that."

"You've got her worried sick," Giles answered glowering at MacDuffie.

"Who?"

"Willow, you brainless insensitive Celt!" Giles snapped, his anger finally getting the better of him, "She's been over in the corner crying since four a.m.!"

Shocked, MacDuffie didn't answer but only stared at the ground.

"She starting to see things just like you!" Giles continued, "She's having visions of how it's going to end and she's terrified! She doesn't understand what's happening to her, the powers that are descending on her."

MacDuffie still wouldn't respond. In desperation, Giles turned to the old shopkeeper and yelled at him.

"Damn it, man, you're a Guardian! You can't just dump all this on her and march off to your doom like some thick headed Highlander at Culloden!"

MacDuffie's eyes blazed as he quickly looked up at Giles.

"There! I thought that would get a rise out of you, you stubborn Scot!"

"Rupert . . . I'm sorry," MacDuffie answered humbled.

"Well as Buffy likes to say, 'sorry doesn't cut it!' . . . Willow sees what's going to happen just as you do! . . . talk to her."

"And what do I say . . . ?" MacDuffie stammered.

"That it's all right to be afraid," Giles answered firmly, "That it's all right to be sad for what is yet to come. You remember what you felt when your dying father placed his hand on your forehead and passed the essence of the Guardian's soul on to you?"

"I was only sixteen," MacDuffie said slowly, "I never felt so alone . . . Rupert, for two years after that I ran away, wandered, drunk half the time, my life a complete mess. I couldn't understand how he could have passed on such a burden, such a curse. . . and then left me . . . alone. And now, although I see my own end clearly, that which will befall all these brave young people around me, especially those two powerful young women inside, . . . that eludes me."

"As it should," Giles answered, "As much as you hate to admit it, there are some powers denied even to a Guardian! If we would know the final end, we would either grow lazy with self confidence . . . or weak with despair . . . either would guarantee a victory for evil. Endings are not always immutable . . . that's the great paradox."

MacDuffie considered Giles' words as he stared out across the street. Smoke and steam from the previous night's fires swept across the open pavement and blew by the Guardian and the Watcher. MacDuffie's trench coat flapped gently in the smoke filled breeze. For a moment, the two men looked like ancient celtic warriors, survivors of a particularly hideous struggle, now surveying the desolation of the battlefield on the morning after and wondering whether the slaughter had any meaning at all.

"I realize it's no consolation, but all of us here suffer in our own way as greatly as a Guardian . . ." Giles said as he stared back at the shop where the two slayers were inside, "And it's from that suffering that we all derive our strength.

Giles' voice dropped in volume. He spoke just above a whisper.

"Even in our sleep, pain which cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart. And in our own despair, against our will, . . . comes Wisdom to us . . . by the awful grace of God."

Inside, Buffy still sat by Faith's side. The comatose slayer never stirred. Cordelia stood just behind Buffy. Tenderly, Buffy wiped Faith's forehead over and over with the cool washcloth.

Outside on the street, MacDuffie finally looked back up at Giles.

"I see you remember your Aeschylus from Cambridge," he said simply.

"Actually, it was while I was in training," Giles answered, "There was an old Watcher. I don't even remember his name. Many years before, he lost his Slayer; he was powerless as he saw her die horribly. He often quoted from Aeschylus, even gave me a copy of the plays. Said it would be a long time before I understood them. But they might save my sanity someday."

There was a long pause.

"You must explain to her what's coming!" Giles said emphatically, "The powers may be too great for her to deal with alone. Don't make your father's mistake!"

Finally, MacDuffie looked Giles directly in the eyes.

"All right, Rupert," MacDuffie said nodding, "I'll talk to her."

Meanwhile, Cordelia stood silently by Buffy as she tended to Faith. Even in the bright daylight, the bizarre rays emitted by the Shining Trapezohedron leaked through the store room door and fell across Faith's body like a lacework of gossamer chains.

"Hey, Buffy, break time," Cordelia said.

"That's okay," Buffy answered not looking up.

"No, it's not okay. You gotta take a break, rest, get some sleep, anything if we're gonna fight this thing tonight."

Buffy slowly stared up at Cordelia.

"Go on," Cordelia insisted, "Go find that Midwestern hunk of yours, what's his name, Riley? I'll stay with her."

Buffy's eyes widened at the Riley remark. Realizing Cordelia was not about to be put off, Buffy sighed.

"Go on!" Cordelia nagged sensing Buffy weakening, "What's the worst that can happen? Faith wakes up, we trade insults, she beats me to a pulp."

Buffy grinned in spite of herself.

"Get outta here! This is 'The Bitch' talking, and I'm not gonna be this nice to you all the time!"

"Thanks," Buffy said sincerely. She then gazed down at Faith for a moment more. Tenderly she ran her hand across Faith's forehead.

"Just rest," she whispered softly to the comatose slayer, "Don't worry. I'll be back soon. Oh, you remember Cordelia here? If she talks too much, you have my permission to shut her up."

"Gee, thanks!" Cordelia snapped.

Buffy stood up and walked slowly out of the shop. Cordelia, alone in the corner with Faith, sat down in Buffy's chair. Unsure of exactly what to do, she said nothing for a few moments and only stared at the unresponsive form of Faith. Suddenly, she sensed a presence and glanced over her shoulder. A look of sad recognition crossed her face.

"Hi," she said sweetly to the empty air behind her, "How did you get here?"

The shop was silent.

"I'm so glad you came," Cordelia continued quietly, "I didn't want to be alone, but I didn't want to tell anybody 'cause . . . I'm trying to be strong like I'm supposed to be. But . . . I'm scared, Dennis . . . I'm really scared."

For another moment, the shop was silent. Then, ever so slowly, as if a set of ghostly fingers were stroking her long brown locks, Cordelia's messed up hair on her forehead gently shifted to the side of her head and out of her eyes. She smiled sadly at the emptiness around her. She leaned her head to the side and softly rubbed it against what might have been an invisible shoulder that was now supporting her.

Then, the wash cloth, of its own accord, floated from Faith's bedside up into Cordelia's hand. As if urged on by an unseen presence, Cordelia began gently wiping the cool wash cloth across Faith's brow.

Go To Chapter 21 


	21. The Res Profana

**The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind**

**Chapter 21  
The _Res Profana  
  
_**_by Gaius Petronius_

DISCLAIMER:  
Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB, Fox and Mutant Enemy, Inc. This story can be read on its own or as a sequel to H. P. Lovecraft's "The Haunter of the Dark" from which the Ancient Ones, the Shining Trapezohedron and the character of Robert Blake are derived.

The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind is set roughly in mid-season four shortly following the death of Doyle but before the creation of Adam and the death of Maggie Walsh.

**Content Note:** This part is rated PG-13 for a little raunchy language.

Professor Walsh sat behind her desk in a swivel office chair. Her office was barren of any personal objects, the walls white and blank with no pictures or photographs. She preferred it that way since she felt any decorations would only serve to distract from the important work of her Initiative command. Former command anyway, she mused. Finn had out flanked her once. She wasn't about to sit quietly and let him dismantle her years of careful work among the "hostiles."

Walsh folded her hands under her chin and glared at a computer monitor in front of her. There was an advantage to her confinement in that no one would interrupt her now. Her eyes were wide and her teeth clenched. She'd had no sleep but that was no bother. Every so often, with lightning speed, she typed in an entry on her keyboard and then studied the monitor intensely. Suddenly, she slammed her hand in anger on the desk in front of her.

"DAMN!" she shouted.

The noise attracted the attention of an Initiative Soldier standing guard outside the door to her office. The door opened and the Soldier, fully suited and armed with an automatic rifle, stepped crisply inside.

"Is there a problem, ma'am?" he asked without emotion.

"No . . . " Maggie Walsh answered, her voice dripping sarcasm, "There's no problem. Just a little setback in my cyber-chess game here. Do you play chess, Soldier?

"No, ma'am."

"Pity. Then you wouldn't understand."

The Soldier glared momentarily at Walsh. Seeing nothing that would arouse suspicion, he turned, left the room and shut the door behind him. There was a loud snap as the lock slipped into place. Walsh returned her attention to the computer monitor.

"You may have me in 'check' for the moment, Riley Finn," she said out loud to herself, "But you forgot one little detail. I wrote the security protocols for the Initiative systems, and all I need is a little more time with these strings of code . . ."

Maggie Walsh's voice trailed off. She put her chin in her clasped hands in front of her once more. As she glared at the monitor, her eyes widened and, in a moment, began to glow with the faintest crimson light. She quickly typed in another entry and hit the return key. Now satisfied, she settled back in her chair and grinned. All around, the red hue that began in her eyes now permeated the room, casting a glow up the walls and across the ceiling.

"There . . . that's better," the voice that emanated from her face whispered to the empty room.

On the main floor of the Command Center, Riley stood behind Hunter who was seated at the infra-red monitor. The activity in the Command Center was now fast and furious with soldiers and technicians moving equipment, testing systems and studying maps of Sunnydale and its nearby environs.

As Riley stared over Hunter's shoulder, he yawned and rubbed his eyes. Suddenly, Graham stepped up behind him and put his hand on Riley's arm.

"Hey . . . you're beat, man," Graham said, "Knock off for a few hours, okay? Get some sleep. We'll handle it here."

"I'm all right," Riley answered without conviction as he rubbed his bloodshot eyes.

"No, you're not!" Graham replied firmly, "You're barely on two feet now. By tonight, you won't know which way is up."

"He's right, sir," Hunter added without taking his attention away from the monitor.

"You, too?" Riley said, rubbing his face in his hands, "Okay, you guys win. But I want you both to take a breather at 0600 as well. I don't want anybody burned out around here tonight. Be back by dusk."

"You got it," Graham replied but Riley could tell from his tone of voice that his order was going to be ignored. Nevertheless, Riley was so exhausted that this well intentioned challenge to his authority was not about to keep him under the bright lights of the Initiative Command Center.

Without answering, he walked away slowly towards the steel staircase leading to the catwalk exit. Graham and Hunter watched him leave.

"Keep me posted if our bogie pops up," Graham said after Riley disappeared from sight.

"You'll hear me squawk, sir," Hunter grinned.

* * * * * * *

Tara's dorm room was dark with the shades drawn. Working by candlelight, the Wiccan assembled a selection herbs and ingredients on her desk. As she brushed a small mound of ground herbs into a tiny iron pot, there came a soft knock at the door.

"Come on in," she said quietly, not looking up from her work.

Quickly, Willow entered with several books under her arm. Her grin betrayed a little smear of jelly and powdered sugar around her lips.

"Hi . . ."

"Hi . . ." Tara answered as she put aside a little ceramic mortar and pestle she was holding.

There was a long pause as the two women waited, still nervous, for the other to make the first move.

"You got a little mess on your face," Tara finally said, pointing.

"Oh, yeah," Willow replied, wiping her face with her free hand and grinning slightly, "Donuts."

Willow set the books down on Tara's bed and approached her friend. Hesitating for only a moment more, the two slowly put their arms around each other and hugged tenderly.

"I was so afraid," Tara whispered into Willow's shoulder, "I didn't know where you were."

Tara pulled her head off Willow and looked her friend in the eye.

"And then the earthquake came and everything started shaking . . ."

"It wasn't . . . an earthquake," Willow said softly, looking down.

". . . I know . . ." Tara answered after a pause.

Uncertainly, Willow stepped back from Tara and stared at one of the burning candles.

"It almost broke through last night," she said, her voice tinged with fear, "Even without the planetary conjunction. It tried to get the Shining Trapezohedron. Faith and Xander stopped It."

"Faith?" Tara's eyes widened in amazement, "Isn't she the Slayer that went wild?"

"Yeah."

"Is everybody okay?"

". . . no . . . " Willow paused, shaking her head as she stared blankly at the candle, "Faith's unconscious. Giles won't say anything but everybody knows she's probably not going to come out of it. . . she could be dead by now. . . . and It nearly killed Mr. MacDuffie, too. He's hiding it, but I can tell he can hardly walk."

Tara now was frightened.

"What do we do?"

"Buffy's our only hope now," Willow answered trying to sound firm, "Giles says we have to do everything we can tonight to distract It, funnel off Its powers so that Buffy can seal It and the rest of the Ancient Ones back up in the Void. I need you Tara. We all have to work together on this one."

Tara straightened up, using her body to try and match Willow's attitude.  
  
"What do we have to do?"

"Giles wants us to work on spells that concentrate light and scatter darkness . . . and then link them together with magnification spells."

"That'll be real tricky," Tara answered seriously.

"I've got some of Giles' books here but there are some spells missing. And there are references to stuff I've never heard of . . . something called the Res Profana?"

Tara's eyes widened.

"I have," she answered and Willow was astonished as she saw Tara's hands begin to visibly shake.

"What is it?" she asked carefully.

"The 'Damned Thing,'" Tara answered, her voice weighted with a knowledge that Willow could see had her friend petrified.

"It's a book of black magic . . . horrible spells and incantations that some people say predates human existence. It's in a lot of different languages . . . some that can't be read anymore, if they ever could to begin with."

"It can't be _that_ old," Willow said, surprised, "I mean, if people didn't write it, then who did?"

". . . not who . . . what . . ." Tara answered coldly.

A look of horror crossed Willow's face as Tara's meaning sank in.

". . . the Ancient Ones! . . ." Willow whispered.

"They were here . . . _before_." Tara said ominously, "It's incredibly dangerous, but it probably has the answers we're looking for."

"Do you know where it is?" Willow's voice trembled with both fear and anticipation. As Tara nodded, Willow felt her stomach suddenly leap as if she were riding in a car that took a bump in the road too quickly.

"In the basement rare book room of the college library, in one of the cages in the back. Somebody sent it out here from New England in the 1930's with orders that it be kept under lock and key."

"Well, let's go!" Willow said as she turned towards the dorm door.

"No!" Tara called out, suddenly frightened.

"What? Tara?"

"Willow, I don't know how to explain this but . . ." Tara stopped in mid sentence. She faced Willow and stepped up to within a few inches of her friend.

". . . please . . . trust me . . . just this once. Let me handle it. Alone."

"Are you sure?" Willow's eyebrows were raised in uncertainty.

"There's only one other thing I've ever been as sure of in my life," Tara answered softly.

She wrapped her arms around Willow and held her close. Willow drank in the warm softness of Tara's body and she shuddered too as she imagined there was a sense of finality in their every move and action. Both Wiccans remained in each other's embrace for a long time. Finally, Tara pulled away.

"Listen, I gotta go. I'll meet you back here by dark."

"That's okay. I'm gonna chase down some other books and stuff for the spells. MacDuffie's shop got wrecked last night," Willow grinned, "You know anyplace I can find bat wings and iguana toenails? The usual nasties?"

"Might try Hot Topic in the Mall," Tara suggested as she tossed her long blond hair off her shoulders, "You know the girl with the lip rings and purple hair, Emily? She keeps some stuff behind the counter . . . but it's not very fresh."

"Yeah, I got some bad tarantula eggs from her once."

"Eeeww!" Tara crinkled her nose.

"I think she does it on purpose," Willow said.

"Willow? . . ." Tara paused, her face again radiating uncertainty, "Will you promise me something?"

"Sure. Anything," Willow answered, puzzled.

Tara spoke slowly.

"If I'm not back an hour after sunset . . . don't come looking for me."

Shocked, Willow was about to protest, but Tara quickly interrupted her.

"No! Promise me! Get to MacDuffie's shop. Don't look back, just do what you can."

Willow was speechless, her mind now awash in sudden visions of a fiery red cloud reaching down from the sky and seizing her new lover. Unable to reply, she only shook her head in horror.

* * * * * * *

Buffy sat on a bench by herself in the UC Sunnydale Quadrangle. Exhausted, she leaned against the armrest of the bench and tried not to nod off. She struggled to concentrate on the students walking and running by between classes but the whirl of activity was almost too much for her drained mind.

Out of the crowd, Riley appeared and spotted Buffy. She didn't recognize him at first but only stared straight ahead. Riley walked up behind the bench and waited for a moment. Finally Buffy sensed his presence. Looking over her shoulder, she jumped to her feet and embraced him as she moved quickly around the bench, at the same time banging her leg against one of the seat slats in the process.

"Ow!" she complained, giving in to the pain.

"Whoa! Whoa! Careful," he replied as Buffy stumbled into his arms. He caught her and held her up. Her body was almost limp, and he worried at her obvious weakness.

"Hey, take it easy! Come on, sit down," he said reassuringly.

Riley and Buffy, their arms still wrapped around each other, both sat on the bench.

"I'm sorry," Buffy murmured, "I'm so tired."

"I can imagine," Riley answered as he held her tightly to keep her body upright.

Buffy looked in surprise at Riley.

"That thing tried to break through last night, didn't it?" he said, understanding her unspoken question.

"How'd you know?"

"The infrared scanners went nuts. It's targeted some little magic shop downtown, right?"

"Yeah. Mr. MacDuffie's place," Buffy said, now too tired to either protest or concoct a story to explain away the near disaster of the last few hours, "It's after something called the Shining Trapezohedron. It's a crystal of some kind that can open the gate between the Void and this universe."

"I'm not sure exactly what this all means, but I promised you I'll be by your side tonight," Riley said as he held her.

"Riley, no!"

"Yes. This is the plan," he continued, ignoring her fears, "I got four squads that are going to spread out in the cross streets north of that shop. When it appears, we'll move in and hassle it, then fall back and sting it like wasps all the way. We're gonna keep it busy . . . until you do what you have to do . . . whatever that is."

Despairing, Buffy leaned against Riley's chest and placed her arms around his shoulders

"Please, Riley, no," she whimpered as she felt the exhaustion and need for sleep overwhelming her body, "You'll all be killed. Why are you trying to do this?"

Riley spread his arms protectively over Buffy. She snuggled in closer as if he were the soft comforter on her bed back in the dorm room.

"Because," he said gently, "If you don't succeed in doing whatever you're going to do, what'll I have left then?"

Having been up almost forty eight hours straight was finally too much for Buffy to fight any longer.

". . . please . . . Riley . . . no . . . " Buffy cried softly as she surrendered and drifted off to sleep, " . . . I love you so much . . ."

"And that's why I'm going to do it," he answered confidently, "You said something last night that . . . about us being together on the edge of the end of the world. I don't know where it came from or what it was all about. All I know is that, if at that final moment we have each other, . . . then the world will never really end. We'll be together forever. I just know it. . . . Does that make any sense?"

Buffy didn't respond. She was sleeping peacefully in Riley's arms. Riley sighed as he realized she didn't hear a word he had said. He lowered his face so that his cheek rested in the honey blond hair on the top of Buffy's head. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

All about them swirled the everyday noises of the busy college campus, the voices of students, the roar of car engines in the parking lot, laughter and plans being made for weekend parties. It all sounded like any other noon time in a seemingly never ending sequence of daily life.

Only Buffy and Riley, like a pair of time travelers totally lost to the present, rested asleep in each other's arms as the world whirled by.

* * * * * * *

The Hot Topic store in the mall was cramped and clearly held too much merchandise for the narrow space it occupied. The aisles were lined with goth, costume and other leather and vinyl clothing, mostly in black and purple. A few display cases held plastic jewelry, pornographic greeting cards and jars of multicolored lipstick, glitter and makeup. One wall was entirely covered with rock posters and t-shirts. Korn glared down at the shop floor below and Rammstein was engulfed in flames. Overhead in the back of the shop a bank of black lights illuminated a variety of day glow products in an eerie green irridescence. Music blared from the store's sound system.

The shop was empty except for Willow and Emily, who sported purple hair which obviously had been dyed too many times and a pair of lip rings. Dressed from head to toe in black vinyl, she lurked behind the counter around the cash register. Willow stood in front of the check out, holding a tiny screw cap glass jar that Emily had passed to her. Gingerly Willow opened the cap and carefully sniffed the contents.

"Hey, don't be so picky," Emily snipped, "You're in luck here. That's probably the last jar of weasel warts in Sunnydale!"

A stench emanated from the jar, and Willow suddenly recoiled as if she had been slapped in the face.

"Holy Shit!" the Wiccan exclaimed.

"What the fuck's wrong now?!" Emily complained.

Willow, shaking her head, only stared at the check out attendant.

"You gotta be kidding me!" was all Willow could spit out as she shoved the jar back across the counter to Emily.

"What?! . . . " Emily said in exasperation, "It works good when it's ripe!"

* * * * * * * * *

Go To Chapter 22 


	22. The Summoning

**The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind**

**Chapter 22  
The Summoning  
  
**_by Gaius Petronius_

DISCLAIMER:  
Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB, Fox and Mutant Enemy, Inc. This story can be read on its own or as a sequel to H. P. Lovecraft's "The Haunter of the Dark" from which the Ancient Ones, the Shining Trapezohedron and the character of Robert Blake are derived.

The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind is set roughly in mid-season four shortly following the death of Doyle but before the creation of Adam and the death of Maggie Walsh.

**Content Note:** This part is rated PG-13 for a little raunchy language.

Giles sat bent over at the kitchen alcove table. Around him, both on the table and scattered about the floor at his feet were dozens of books. He scribbled frantically on a pad of paper as he copied sections from the volumes that lay open before him. The ever present tea cup that usually accompanied his bouts of research had been replaced by a large mug filled with black coffee.

Spike, still flopped on the couch watching soap operas, whined, at the same time not taking his eyes from the television screen.

"Rupert, I'm getting a little thirsty, you know. Be a good Watcher and pop me a bottle of that cow swill you've got in the fridge?"

"Go bite yourself," Giles snarled back, never looking up from his books.

At the New Age Curiosity Shop downtown, Cordelia still sat by Faith's side. The former cheerleader chattered merrily away, partly to Faith and partly to herself, while Faith remained completely unresponsive.

The Slayer's breathing was slow and measured, her face still ghastly pale. Cordelia tried hard not to look too closely at Faith so as not to lose her composure.

". . . but no one dares challenge me for the bitch award!" Cordelia rattled on, "Not you and especially not Buffy. . . . I mean I can see why you wanted to kill her. Well, not really 'kill' kill her but . . ."

Suddenly the door to the shop flew open, and Xander barged in pushing a large box shaped piece of machinery on wheels. The object had a gas powered motor attached to it, similar to an oversized lawn mower motor. A pull rope for starting dangled from the metal housing. Dials on the top and electrical cables with huge 220 volt plugs sprawled from the back. Anya followed behind Xander. From the look on her face, it was clear she had been arguing with him all the way. Nevertheless, like a bull oblivious to all in its path, Xander pushed the machine over to the side of his control panel for the lighting.

"Xander . . . what the hell is that piece of . . . shit?" Cordelia asked as she stared in amazement at the commotion at the other end of the shop.

Anya glared at Cordelia for a moment as the former demon recognized her own words.

"He made me help him steal it from a construction site!" Anya snapped.

Listening to Anya was bad enough, but Xander suddenly realized that he wasn't going to be able to withstand the assaults from her and Cordelia combined. An explanation was in order. He stopped, straightened up and addressed both Cordelia and Anya.

"Listen, ladies," he announced as if he were instructing particularly difficult children in his charge, "I just got a real bad thought and nobody is gonna say the Xandman is not prepared for all contingencies!"

He patted the dark blue metal cover of his latest "acquisition" as if it were a new pet he had brought home without permission.

"This baby is a little . . . insurance!" he stated proudly.

* * * * * * * *

The afternoon sun moved rapidly across the sky and headed for the horizon. It only took Tara a few minutes to run across the Quadrangle from her dorm to the UC Sunnydale Library. She stopped on the stone steps, glanced nervously at the fading sunlight in the advancing afternoon and then firmly marched inside.

The rare book storage room looked more like an underground detention cell at the Initiative than a repository for ancient volumes. It was cramped and in one corner, a small chamber with a chain link cage door housed a single wooden table and a chair. Another cage door separated the entrance to the room from the staircase leading down from the world above. Old worn books, some large, some small, stacked up on dark green metal shelves lined the white cinder block walls. In one corner sat a heavy iron safe, its door shut and locked. Several bare incandescent bulbs screwed into obsolete porcelain light fixtures provided a stark and unsettling illumination.

An echoing clop clop of footsteps descended the stairway leading to the storage room. Tara, lead by the Curator of the rare book collection, stepped out from the concealed staircase at the entrance to the room. The Curator, a tall, extremely old gentleman in an oddly outdated and rumpled suit, fumbled momentarily with a ring of keys as they both stood before the caged entrance door. He spoke with a stilted formality reminiscent of an earlier time.

"This is highly irregular, young lady," he fussed as he finally inserted the correct key into the door.

"I know," Tara answered meekly.

"In the sixty-three years this 'thing' has been here," the old Curator rambled on as he finally found the key he wanted and unlocked the door, "I know of no more than four people who have requested to see it before you. And all I've turned away because they were unsavory characters who didn't know the pass words. For two I had to summon campus security to have them removed. . . . and I won't hesitate to do the same with you!"

"I promise I won't cause any trouble," Tara said earnestly.

"Hmm! You'd better not!" the Curator huffed. He turned to Tara as if he were required to subject her to one final test before entering.

"Just how did you know the pass words?" he asked slowly.

"I don't know. I just knew to say 'A friend of Randolph Carter's has need of the book.'"

"Who taught you to say that?" the Curator scowled, still unconvinced.

"I told you . . . no one . . . I just knew it," Tara answered innocently.

"And what purpose have you for the evil this thing possesses?"

"What need have you to ask so many questions?" Tara answered, finally growing impatient, "There's little time as it is."

The old Curator stared at her for a moment. What he saw, Tara couldn't tell but he finally nodded his head.

"So . . . it _is_ the end time then," he said quietly, "Howard truly must've sent you. In his last letter, he said a young woman would finally come in the end time. She would know the words although she would not know how. She would read . . . and then finally destroy the Res Profana."

Tara was confused by his ramblings.

"What . . . what are you talking about? Who's Howard?"

"But then how could that be?" he mused, "And how could you have known him? Old Lovecraft's been dead these sixty-three some odd years."

The Curator shuffled over to the safe, spun the dial and quickly selected the combination. The door swung open on silent hinges. The Curator withdrew a large black calfskin bound volume. It was actually thin and wide with pages that appeared to be of a skin rather than paper or some other kind of parchment. The Curator walked over to the caged room with the small table and chair, opened the door, set the book on the table and motioned for Tara to come in.

"You will have to read it in here," he said apologetically.

"That's okay."

Tara entered the caged little room and sat down behind the table. The Curator turned to leave, closing the cage door behind him. Startled, Tara looked up.

"I'm sorry, young lady," the Curator stammered as she locked the door, "I cannot let it leave this room under any circumstances. I'll be at the head of the stairs. Just call out when you're done. I'll hear you."

Tara nodded nervously. The Curator walked towards the stairs. He stopped one more time before he ascended and turned back towards Tara.

"Oh, and before I forget. . . ." he said almost in a whisper, "Tell that young fellow, MacDuffie . . . old Jameson's son . . . that my prayers are with him. . . . They're with all of you."

"Thank you," Tara replied smiling.

The old Curator nodded, began climbing the staircase and disappeared from view. Immediately, Tara turned her attention to the black volume lying before her. Slowly, she reached out one hand and touched the cracked and curled leather cover with her fingertips. She suddenly closed her eyes and shuddered as she sensed the ancient evil that rested waiting in the pages beneath her hand.

"Dear Goddess," she whispered, "Give me strength to confront what I am about to see."

She carefully turned back the cover of the Res Profana, paused, leaned forward and peered at the yellowed page in front of her. Scrawled in little bunches at odd angles across the parchment were bits of handwriting, almost like graffiti. Tara recognized them as short notes and comments scribbled about the blank page by previous readers of the Res Profana.

One particularly caught her attention. The writing was brief and in a faded red color but the angles of the letters were jagged and the words out of alignment as if they were scratched on the page with great rapidity and under desperate circumstances. Tara read them aloud to herself.

"Dei Lucis Deaeque, salve me!"

She then translated the words.

"Gods and Goddesses of the Light, save me!"

Tara's eyes widened with fear. She scanned the page and spotted another block of commentary. She stopped in amazement. It was the only one in English and was quite lengthy. The handwriting was controlled, the penmanship careful and neat and the ink only slightly faded with the passing of the years. Tara read the first line silently. As she did, the hair rose on the back of her neck as she heard in her mind the voice of the writer. It was that of a man, calm, peaceful but with a sense of urgency.

"My dearest Tara." the first sentence read, "As you are reading this now, the end time must be near."

Tara gasped, jumped up from the chair and quickly slapped the book shut. She backed away in fear from the Res Profana to the edge of the cage door. She almost called to the Curator to come and let her out but something caused her to pause and stare back at the black volume once more.

Cautiously, Tara returned to the table and slowly reopened the cover. She read again, and the Voice spoke to her in her mind.

"Do not be afraid," it said from the writing on the page, "For my physical presence is no more. I am sharing with you on this page what I have seen in my time as I know it will be of great aid for you in yours. Because of what you are, only you have the strength to gaze upon this Damned Thing."

"The incantation you seek is on the twenty-third page. It is in a language never spoken or heard by human kind. It is of the Ancient Ones and the Void and may only be used once in the final moments to aid the Slayer. You will need to use Necror's key on the eleventh page to decipher the symbols (Yes, my dear, he is the same one who unleashed the Haunter of the Dark against ancient Alexandria.) Memorize it. When you have it committed to memory, destroy the Res Profana once and for all. Then use those words together with the powers of your life partner to hold the Void open in the last seconds so that the soul of the Slayer may escape . . . "

". . . Willow . . ." Tara murmured.

She returned her attention to the message.

". . . You must work quickly and accurately. Use of the Res Profana acts as a beacon to the Haunter. Much of the strength and power of the Ancient Ones in this universe is derived from the spells contained in it. The Haunter will seek it out. You will be safe during daylight but your task must be completed and the book in ashes by nightfall. I have spoken enough as the minutes remaining to you are precious. The hopes and prayers of all the Guardians through time are with you and with all those who will do battle by your side before the Gates of Dawn. And although we have never met, I humbly remain,  
Your dear friend,  
Randolph Carter - HPL"

Tara, barely able to comprehend what she has just read, stared blankly at the page. At the bottom of the message, the name "Randolph Carter" was carefully printed in the same size letters and penmanship as the body of the text. However the last three letters, "HPL," while clearly the product of the same author, were in a flowing script as if they were an abbreviated signature.

Fearfully, Tara turned the pages until she reached the twenty-third indicated by "HPL." As she leaned forward, she suddenly winced in pain as if the obscure symbols on the page were burning her eyes. She almost cried out but finally took control of her body and suppressed the impact of what she saw. Her breathing was deep but steady as she leaned forward again and studied the cursed writing on the page in front of her.

Outside the UC Sunnydale Library, the sun slid closer and closer to the horizon.

* * * * * * *

Faith, still lying on the ground at the base of the wall, stared up into the endless darkness above her. Only a few yards away, like a predator circling in on its prey, the image of Mayor Wilkins paced back and forth. The three lobed burning eye of Nyarlethotep floated where his face should have been. He slipped in nearer, almost snake like, as if he were looking for an opening through which to lash out and strike.

"You come near me and I'll throw your ass out again!" Faith snarled through gritted teeth.

The image of the Mayor suddenly paused in mid stride and stared off into the darkness. It suddenly spoke with the deep, echoing disembodied voice of Nyarlethotep.

"Ahh! That's where the old bastard hid it! . . . " the image of Wilkins hissed, "Well, no rush. It'll be dark shortly."

Suddenly, the form of the Mayor vanished, leaving Faith alone in the emptiness at the base of the massive gray stone wall. Exhausted, she didn't move from where she lay, but her ears perked. From somewhere beyond the wall issued a faint, deep rumble of thunder.

At the same time, Giles was still hunched over his books at the kitchen alcove table. On the couch in front of the television, Spike fiddled with the remote as he channel surfed. Suddenly the apartment gently trembled with the sound of thunder. It was barely audible but loud enough for Giles to stop reading and look up from his books. Then, slowly, as if mesmerized, he rose from the kitchen table and walked towards the door.

"Gilesy old boy, if you're heading out, pick me up a pack of smokes," Spike sang out from the couch.

Giles didn't answer. He left by the front door, letting it slam unceremoniously behind him.

On the UC Sunnydale campus, most classes were done for the day and only a few students wandered back and forth between the campus buildings. Buffy and Riley, asleep in each others arms, were still sitting together on the bench in the Quadrangle. Suddenly, Buffy's eyes popped open as the same quiet shuddering of thunder awakened her. Quickly, she tried to slip gently out of Riley's embrace without waking him, but he stirred.

"Hey, what's up?" he yawned.

"I gotta go," Buffy announced as she stood up.

"What is it?"

"It's almost time."

Buffy quickly bent over and kissed Riley passionately, her lips searching desperately for what she felt would be the last taste of the love they shared. As she pulls back she whispered by the side of his face.

". . . I love you . . . forever."

Suddenly she turned and dashed away across the Quadrangle before Riley could even stand up. Puzzled for a moment, he watched her disappear. He then glanced at his watch.

"Son of a bitch!" he exclaimed, jumping to his feet and running off in the opposite direction.

In Tara's dorm room, Willow busily assembled small bottles of ingredients for her spells. As she stuffed several hand written pages of instructions in her pocket, she heard the same ominous rumble of thunder. Her eyes widened. She turned away from the desk where all the candles sat, quickly blew them out and hurried out the door.

Angel didn't have time to think. Somewhere in the sewers beneath the streets of Sunnydale, he was caught in mid-battle with a half dozen vampires. He struggled with the large volume tucked under his arm that kept threatening to pop out and land in the puddling sewage at his feet.

He was barely able to keep the attacking horde at bay as each one leaped in at him from different directions. Suddenly, the same thunder echoed through the subterranean tunnels, although here below ground, the rumble was more a shaking of the earth.

The vampires suddenly broke off their attack. Eyes wide with fear, they quickly scrambled away all in one direction. Even the few rats infesting the tunnel, scurried off, their squeaks of terror disappearing into the dark. One vampire, dazed with confusion, in its flight for safety, passed by too close to Angel. He nonchalantly snatched it by the collar, lifted it up and pitched it against a concrete reinforcing bar protruding out of the sewer tunnel wall.

The vampire exploded into dust. Angel looked around him. Without thinking, he broke into a run down the tunnel in the opposite direction from the flight of his attackers.

In the New Age Curiosity Shop, Cordelia now stood by Faith's side. Still unconscious, Faith lay motionless on the cot. At the other end of the shop, Xander and Anya fumbled with the wires on the control panel for the floodlights. As Xander struggled to hook up his new "acquisition" to the equipment, Cordelia walked across the room to watch their efforts.

Surveying it all, MacDuffie leaned against the side of the doorway. The last rays of the setting sun cast his long shadow across the now chaotic shop. The rumble of thunder, louder here, made a few of the bottles on the shelves rattle. Both Cordelia and Xander suddenly looked up as if the sudden sound from the sky was a subliminal summons.

In the darkness surrounding Faith, the thunder shook the loudest and longest. She sat up, her blood red eyes wide, and looked around her. Quickly she reached out, feeling the massive wall by her side for a way through. She found none, the dark gray stones holding back her efforts.

Back at the New Age Curiosity Shop, Anson MacDuffie limped inside. Cordelia and Xander stared up at him. Not realizing what was about to occur, Anya yanked at Xander's arm.

"Hey, we're not finished here! What's up?"

"We gotta go," Xander answered her in a voice that was almost dream like.

Anya stirred as if she were about to stand but Xander restrained her.

"No . . . just me and Cordy," he said softly.

Anya's eyes blazed as if she were about to throw a deadly temper tantrum. Xander leaned forward and kissed her passionately. He spread his arms around her, pulling her soft body against his muscled chest. For a moment, the two were wrapped in each others arms. Cordelia, disgusted at the display, put her hands on her hips and muttered to the empty air behind her.

"Hhhmm! Xander, we don't have time for mouth massage lessons!"

Xander slowly pulled away from Anya. Before he turned to leave, he quickly put his lips up against her ear and whispered to her. Anya's eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. Xander then stepped back beside Cordelia.

"Later, okay?" he said, grinning at his ex-demon.

". . . yeah . . . later . . ." Anya beamed.

Suddenly, Cordelia stopped in mid step. A guilty look on her face, she stared back at the far corner of the shop near the motionless form of Faith. Before she could move, an invisible hand brushed her cheek and swept her long brown hair out of her eyes. Slowly, she leaned her head forward, closed her eyes and felt a soft cool wind brush against her cheeks and settle gently on her lips. Cordelia took a deep breath as she drank in the passion and gentle sorrow she felt lingering before her.

Finally she opened her eyes once more and spoke quietly to the melancholy emptiness hovering at her side.

"I know . . . but that still doesn't make it any easier," she said sadly.

There was a moment of silence.

". . . goodbye, Dennis . . ." she said quickly and ran over to join Xander who was almost out the door.

"What was that all about?" Xander asked as they both stepped onto the sidewalk.

"I was just thinking . . ." Cordelia answered softly, "How some things end for no reason. Just because they have to end."

Xander was respectfully silent. He hoped his former girlfriend would momentarily pop back as her usual predictable, strong willed self.

"What did you just tell Anya?" Cordelia suddenly snapped, and Xander breathed a sigh of relief.

"None of your business!" he answered settling right into the swing of the conversation as if no time had passed since junior year at Sunnydale High.

"You might as well spill it. I'll find out anyway."

"Oh and how's that, Miss Private Investigator?" Xander grinned.

"From Willow," Cordelia answered confidently.

"But I haven't even told _her_ yet!"

"But you will!"

Xander rolled his eyes. Yup, he thought, the babe was back. Everything was going to be all right now.

The shades of dusk spread across the buildings outside the shop as the two former high school sweethearts broke into a run up the street together. Quickly, Xander pulled ahead.

"Hey! Wait up!" Cordelia shouted.

"Come on! Pick it up, pom-pom brain! My truck's on the next street!" he replied over his shoulder.

"If you ditch me, you're dead meat, horn dog!"

Yes, even on the edge of the end of the world, Xander felt certain everything was going to be all right as he and Cordelia disappeared running around the corner on the deserted streets.

* * * * * * * * * *

All of Sunnydale was visible from the top of the northwestern hillside. Always favored for teenage parking, the unnamed summit was only referred to as "the hill" or "the overlook" but everyone in Sunnydale understood what was meant.

From its looming vantage point, the hillside was the perfect location for viewing the docks with their freighters all neatly tied up miles away. In the distance they looked like toys floating on the horizon. Directly below the exposed boulders and dusty scrub growth of the summit, all of Sunnydale stretched out with the first flickering of the street lamps breaking the now advancing darkness.

As dusk thickened, the clouds in the sky begin to swirl, their color shifting from fluffy white to an inky gray and finally a lurid crimson as if the sunset of some alien solar system were now descending upon the southern California town. The thunder rumbled once more. A bolt of lightning dropped on the outskirts and, after a moment, the siren of an emergency vehicle wailed faintly but distinctly up the hillside.

Giles followed a path leading to the summit of the hill. He reached the peak and stopped, gazing out at the view spread out before him. In a moment, as if appearing out of nowhere, he was joined by Buffy. They said nothing but only stared at the ominously building turbulence in the sky.

A few moments later, Willow ascended the path as well to stand beside them. In a few more minutes she was followed by Angel. Cordelia and Xander, both panting and out of breath, finally arrived as well. The entire original Scooby Gang, now together for what each feared would be one last time, all gazed out over Sunnydale.

The churning in the clouds built with each passing moment. In the distance, the ocean in the harbor rose and ebbed fiercely, causing the ships to lurch and strain at their moorings. Darkness descended quickly and the rumble of thunder grew in intensity and frequency. Bewildered, Cordelia looked back and forth between Giles and Buffy.

"Giles? Buffy? Why are we all here? I just felt something calling me."

"Me, too," Willow added.

"We must have been summoned," Giles said as he stared out at what appeared to the opening of the veritable gates of hell in the sky, "By what, I'm not sure, but I felt the same thing."

The swirling of the clouds overhead built steadily. A deep blood red hovered above the horizon where the sun disappeared only moments ago. Willow pointed at the rapidly intensifying red color.

"There. That's where it'll come from," she said flatly.

All the Scoobies stared where Willow indicated, and Giles nodded his head.

"So," Buffy finally said, "This is what they saw."

"Yes, . . ." Giles nodded, quoting from the Alexandrian Chronicle, "on the edge of the end of the world."

A breeze blew up the hillside from behind the Scooby Gang.

"We _have been summoned_ . . ." Giles announced almost as if he were in a trance, "Because it's time."

He looked down at Buffy, and she returned his stern gaze.

"I'm ready, Giles," she said firmly, "Whatever may come, I'm ready."

Willow stepped forward to Buffy's side. Angel and Xander did the same.

"So are we," the young Wiccan announced.

"Me, too," Xander answered with her.

"I guess I'm in," Cordelia answered, resigned to the fact that, in spite of her constant protests, she was and always would be a member of this gang weirdos.

But Buffy would have none of their heroics now.

"Guys, I want you to get outta here," she ordered them.

"No, Buffy!" Willow answered sharply, "We've been through this dozens of times. It's an all or nothing deal!"

"But this is different."

". . . How? . . ." Angel confronted Buffy coolly.

Buffy stopped. For a moment, she and Angel stared at each other. It seemed like in those few seconds, all their feelings, past and present, boiled beneath the surface as if they were matching the turbulence now churning in the sky over their heads.

"But Angel, . . ." Buffy stumbled for the right words, "Everything is different now!"

"No . . . it's not. . . ." he said gently, "If you go up against this thing alone, where are we going to run? Where are we going to hide? And what'll be left when it's all over? You know you have almost no chance by yourself."

"He's right, Buffy," Willow joined in, "It's like it's been since you first came to Sunnydale. When we work together, we can defeat anything."

"But, guys . . ." Buffy protested but Cordelia suddenly cut her off.

"Buffy . . ." the ex-cheerleader announced commanding attention.

Cordelia paused for emphasis. Like magic, the Gang waited for her to finish her sentence.

"We're staying!" she announced, "The Bitch has spoken, so shut up."

Overwhelmed by the strength and loyalty surrounding her, Buffy surrendered and grinned in spite of herself.

"How do you put up with her?" she said sarcastically to Angel who only shrugged in reply.

A sudden clap of thunder shook the ground and made everyone jump. The red glow in the sky surged down toward the horizon drawing a sweep of clouds with it. The clouds began to take on form, coalescing into a winged shape with a long neck.

"We'd better get back to the shop," Giles said nervously while the others could see the fear now bathing his face.

Suddenly Willow froze.

". . . Tara . . ." she murmured in horror.

Quickly she spun in the direction of UC Sunnydale. A red swirling cloud of mist, like a crooked hand with long twisted nails, poured down out of the sky towards the campus.

"Tara!" Willow cried out.

In the basement rare book storage room, Tara was still hunched over the Res Profana, her attention riveted to the symbols on the page. She muttered to herself as she struggled to commit the sounds of the incantation to memory. Unseen by her, a red glow emanated from up the staircase. Then, silently, a crimson mist, like a poison laden vapor, poured with an almost liquid viscosity down the last stairs into view and across the floor of the rare book room towards her.

At the same time, the roar of thunder shattered the stillness of the Void where Faith sat against the massive wall. She leaped to her feet and began beating on the stones with both fists.

"Buffy! Giles! Get me outta here!" she screamed, "It's coming!"

Still lying unconscious on the cot in the New Age Curiosity Shop, Faith's body thrashed while the skin of her face twitched and contorted. MacDuffie quickly knelt by her side and placed his hand across her forehead.

"Easy! Easy, Lassie!" he whispered intensely, "Your time is coming! Conserve your strength!"

In the darkness all around her, Faith heard the Guardian's words and recognized him immediately.

"It's you! The old guy from the street!" she called out to the gray stones confronting her, "What the hell do I do!?"

"Be patient!" he answered across the Void, "You will know . . . when the moment arrives . . . then strike with all the power you have. That way, you will catch Nyarlethotep unawares!"

"All right. I got it!" she grinned back.

On the hillside over Sunnydale, Willow broke from the group and ran back down through the dry brush with Giles calling out after her.

"Willow! Come back!" he shouted as he turned to Buffy and Xander, "We have to stop her! The battle has begun!"

Willow disappeared into the undergrowth in the direction of the college campus.

"Buff, you and the others get back to the shop!" Xander said quickly, "I'll try to catch up with her!"

"But Xander . . ." Buffy yelled as she reached out to try and stop him.

"No, Buffy!" he said firmly as he brushed her hand off his shoulder, "You get your ass back to the shop! You're the only one that's gonna be able to seal this thing up for good. If I don't make it back in time, Anya can run the lights!"

"I don't like this!" Buffy said.

"Tough shit!" Xander snapped back.

There was a pause as the two friends glared at each other. Suddenly, Buffy wrapped her arms around Xander and hugged him. She put her cheek right up against his and kissed him softly on the side of his face. The embrace only lasted a moment. Buffy then stepped back from Xander.

"Nothing personal, okay?" she said flippantly.

"Right!" he grinned back, "You know you loved it!"

No one moved for a moment. Then Xander turned and dashed down the hillside through the brush following Willow. Buffy looked at the rest of the Scooby Gang.

"Okay! Let's move it!" she announced, her voice now sounding like Riley's.

She and the others ran back down the path and in a few moments were out of sight. Overhead, the roar of the thunder built with each passing second and the sky glowed a deep rich crimson.

* * * * * * * * *

Go To Chapter 23 


	23. The Image in the Crystal

**The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind  
Chapter 23  
The Image In The Crystal**

by Gaius Petronius

Disclaimer:  
Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB and Mutant Enemy, Inc. This story can be read on its own or as a sequel to H. P. Lovecraft's "The Haunter of the Dark" from which the Ancient Ones, the Shining Trapezohedron and the character of Robert Blake are derived.

**Content Note:** This part is rated PG-13 for a little raunchy language.

* * * * * * *

The Main floor of the Initiative Headquarters was a scene of controlled confusion. Even here, well below ground level, the clap of thunder accompanying the fall of dusk rolled through the entire complex. Soldiers and technicians ran every which way. Hunter, his chair kicked away, paced up and down in front of the bank of monitors and control indicators housed on the Main floor. He stopped first at one, then another instrument panel as he struggled to get a handle on the flood of readings pouring into the Command Center.

Overhead on the catwalk, Riley ran in through the entrance door. He doubled timed it across the metal grating high over the Main floor and almost swung down the spiral stairway four steps at a time. All the while he buttoned up his camouflage jacket which he had hastily thrown over his Initiative uniform. He raced up to the Command Center, pushed past several technicians and halted behind Hunter.

"What the hell we got?" he shouted to Hunter over the confusion.

"What the hell we _not got!?" _Hunter answered as he pointed to a large monitor,_ "_We're picking up infrared bursts everywhere! Down here at the harbor. Over here there's a super hot spot on the campus."

"That's the library building," Riley said, puzzled.

"We got 'em big time all over downtown!" Hunter continued as he quickly tapped on a keypad to expand the central city grid readouts, "It looks like a whole line of bogies moving towards that block that had all the activity last night!"

"We gotta move fast!" Riley shouted as he snatched up a small wireless headset from a control panel in front of Hunter. The new Initiative Commander's voice boomed over the Initiative address system.

"_Attention all personnel! We are going to Code Red! I repeat, Code Red!"_

All around the Command Center, above the emergency lighting cells on the walls, red strobes began spinning with a steady rapid pulse.

"_This is Agent Finn! Squads Alpha, Beta, Gamma and Delta are to report fully prepared for engagement to the North exit on the double! All others muster to man the defense perimeter! Repeating, all other squads muster to man the defense perimeter!"_

Camouflaged soldiers immediately scrambled across the floor of the Initiative Command Center.

In her locked and guarded office, Professor Walsh, her eyes bloodshot from hours without sleep, glared up from the computer monitor in front of her as Riley's voice echoed from the PA system.

"Well, we'll just have to pick the pace up a little!" she growled quietly as she hunched back over the keyboard and continued working on cracking the Initiative's security codes.

* * * * * * * *

At the base of the hillside overlooking Sunnydale, Willow thrashed her way out of the bushes and onto a street. She stopped to catch her breath as Xander's voice called from the brush behind her.

"Hey, Will! Wait up!"

Xander burst out of the bushes behind Willow. Struggling to untangle himself from the clinging undergrowth, he swatted away a loose stick that stuck out of his hair.

"Willow! What the hell are you doing?!" he shouted over the rolling thunder, "That thing's gonna be all over us in a couple of minutes! We gotta get back to the shop!"

"Xander! Tara's in trouble!" she yelled back and Xander could sense the terror in her voice, "She found something big time that we need to fight the Ancient Ones . . . and It knows! Look!"

Willow pointed in the direction of the Sunnydale campus roughly a mile away. The tips of the claw like red cloud were now visible touching the roof of the campus library.

"Willow . . ." Xander began but Willow interrupted him as she verged on hysteria.

"Xander! Please! You don't understand . . . !" she cried.

"WILLOW!"

Surprised by his outburst, Willow looked back at Xander. Under the failing light she could see the pained expression on his face.

"Will, I know you better than anybody!" he said earnestly, "Who used to put salamanders down your shirt when you were a kid just to make you scream?"

Xander paused. The building wind whipped the bushes behind them.

"And who got his first detention in kindergarten for beating up Jimmy Gulano 'cause he teased you about your red hair and made you cry?"

". . . Xander . . ."

"And who'll always wonder" he continued looking down self consciously at the pavement, "What might have been if Oz and Cordelia hadn't walked in on us in the old factory?"

A streak of lightning, followed by a roar of thunder broke through the turbulence in the sky over their heads. Despite the building chaos around them, Willow couldn't take her eyes off Xander.

"Give me some credit, will ya!" he finally said looking back up at her, "So what are we waiting for?! Let's go get Tara!"

Willow impulsively threw her arms around Xander and for just a moment squeezed him as tightly as she could. Xander wriggled out of her embrace which he imagined was as fierce as that of any Slayer.

"That's nice but no time for the huggies! Come on, the truck's down the street!"

Willow and Xander turned together as one and broke into a run towards the truck with the wind kicking at their heels.

Giles' beat up Citroen screeched to a stop on the street out front of MacDuffie's New Age Curiosity Shop. Buffy leaped from the low slung French auto and dashed in the front door, followed by Angel and Giles. Only Cordelia paused as she scrambled out. Thinking, she stared momentarily at the photographic equipment store next door with its dozens of cameras on display in the window. A bolt of lightning cracked over head and, for a second, the street lamps and the lights in MacDuffie's shop flickered. With a panicked squeak, Cordelia quickly followed the others inside.

As Buffy burst in with Giles and Angel right behind her, she quickly glanced over at Anya who was dutifully manning the spot light control panel and then at MacDuffie who was kneeling beside Faith. Although still comatose, Faith no longer thrashed but appeared to be resting peacefully. Kate stood in a corner and scowled at Angel. Cordelia finally bounced through the door a moment later. Anya scanned the group and a look of panic washed over her face.

"Where's Xander?!" she cried out to Buffy who didn't answer.

"WHERE'S XANDER?!" she repeated.

"He's okay. He's coming," Buffy blurted out, at the same time ignoring Anya's frightened gaze.

Sensing an impending mini emotional crisis, Cordelia quickly stepped beside Anya and placed her hand on her shoulder.

"It's okay," she said in a soothing voice, "He went with Willow to get Tara at the Library. He'll be back soon."

"He better be!" Anya snipped.

As Anya returned her attention to the control panel and fiddled with the knobs and settings, Kate stepped up beside Angel.

"Where the hell you been?" she asked sarcastically.

"Around, trying to find out stuff about the Ancient Ones," Angel answered evasively, looking down at the floor.

Kate sniffed near Angel and crinkled her nose.

"Whew! What is it with you and sewers?!"

Buffy, kneeling down, joined MacDuffie at Faith's side. Outside, the rising wind caused the windows to rattle in their casements.

"Hey . . . I'm back," Buffy said gently, "I promised I would be. You need anything?"

Suddenly realizing the ludicrous nature of the offer, Buffy smiled sadly to herself.

"Sorry about that. Well if you do, I'm right here. Just holler . . . or punch out Cordelia, whatever you feel like."

Buffy rose to her feet. For a moment she appeared lost and unsure of what to do next.

". . . Buffy . . ." Giles said quietly as he stepped up beside her.

Buffy stared up at the impassive face of her Watcher.

"What now, Giles? What do I do?

Giles glanced in the direction of the pulsating light emanating from the storage chamber. Buffy turned momentarily to the still kneeling form of MacDuffie. As he got to his feet, he nodded in agreement with Giles.

Understanding, Buffy faced the doorway to the storage chamber. She reached out, grasped the handle and swung open the creaking wooden door. Like a wave of alien iridescence, the glow of the Shining Trapezohedron washed her from head to foot.

Slowly, Buffy entered the storage chamber and cautiously approached the wooden box housing the Shining Trapezohedron. Behind her in the open doorway Giles and MacDuffie stood anxiously. For a moment she contemplated the pulsing glow emanating from the container. She reached into the box, pushed aside the old excelsium and lifted the Crystal. The entire storage room blazed with the beams of light flooding from the Trapezohedron as Buffy held it out in front of her.

On the cot nearby, Faith's blood red eyes suddenly snapped open as if she could see every image now looming before the other Slayer.

At the same time, Buffy gazed into the Crystal and saw, washed in the color of an unknown spectrum, the slowly opening Void and beyond. Her eyes widened as the image of the universe of the Ancient Ones unfolded before her. She beheld vistas of blasted cities, structures that once towered in unfamiliar shapes and forms, arches that leaped across space at insane angles, now all smashed to wreckage across the blighted landscape. All through the vision was darkness, while an inky poisonous vapor billowed in the sky and, across the foreground, rivers ran blood red.

It was then, as Buffy stared into the Shining Trapezohedron, that she realized she, too, was being watched . . . by something from within. It pulled at her, clawed at her mind and soul seeking to bleed the very life energy out of her. She wanted to scream but no sound would leave her lips. Summoning all her strength, she snatched her gaze away from the vision emanating from the Shining Trapezohedron. Shaking, she placed the Crystal back in its box and staggered back into Giles' arms. Giles held her tightly as she struggled to recover from the nightmare visions now burned into her mind.

MacDuffie soothingly placed his open palm on top of Buffy's head, and her shivering quickly subsided. Not moving from Giles' arms, she turned her head to look up at the Guardian.

"You are strong," he answered her unspoken question, "Few have gazed into the Shining Trapezohedron and returned with their sanity intact to tell the tale."

Unbeknownst to the others, Faith, now fully conscious, stared up at the shop ceiling from her vantage point on the cot.

"So," she muttered almost silently to herself, "That's where those fuckers come from! This is more than you can handle, 'B!'"

Faith was about to stir and sit up when she remembered MacDuffie's admonition.

"Be patient!" his voice whispered to her, "You will know . . . when the moment arrives . . . then strike with all the power you have. That way, you will catch Nyarlethotep unawares!"

Faith heard the movement of Buffy, supported by Giles, and MacDuffie leaving the storage room. She quickly closed her eyes, lay back and pretended to be unconscious once more. Giles led Buffy over to a folding chair. Slowly, the Slayer slid out of Giles' supportive arms and settled on the seat.

"Are you going to be all right?" he asked gently.

"Yeah," she replied but gasped for breath at the same time, ". . . just gimme a sec."

Buffy slowly regained her composure. Finally she looked up at the two men hovering by her side.

"Guys . . . how am I going to do this?" she asked fearfully.

Neither of the two men replied. Giles, his face bathed in concern, returned Buffy's pleading stare while MacDuffie gazed off at Faith's cot.

"You guys are supposed to be the 'Answer Boys!'" Buffy cried out desperately, "How the hell am I gonna do this?!"

Buffy's agonized expression begged for a response from MacDuffie and Giles. None was forthcoming.

* * * * * * *

Wind whipped the brush on the hillside where the North Exit tunnel of the Initiative emerged into the night. The billowing red clouds overhead loomed so low they almost scraped the tips of the trees in the neighboring cemetery.

Riley, fully clothed in camouflage and holding an electronic rifle attached to an alpha particle pack on his back, stood by the exit as dozens of Initiative soldiers, each toting the same small pack connected by heavy cables to a sleek rifle, quickly emerged in pairs. As they burst out into the stormy night air, Riley slapped each on the back and sent them off into the dark.

"Move it! . . . Now! . . . Keep moving! . . . Go! . . . Go! . . ." he kept shouting.

Finally Graham, Forrest and Joel, a younger Initiative squad leader, emerged last and waited by Riley's side.

"Okay! You've got your assignments!" Riley said, his voice barely containing his anxiety, "_This is not_ a capture! It's not even a take down unless we discover a significant weakness! This thing'll fry us if we get caught in the open! The mission is harassment, guerrilla tactics pure and simple! Hit and run! Understood?"

All three squad leaders nodded.

"All right," he continued firmly, "Graham and Forrest, you move your squads to the assigned downtown blocks. Joel, I need you to make a detour by the Campus Library and disrupt whatever it's up to over there, then take your position as well. Keep in constant communication! And no heroics! You got it?

"Got it, sir," Joel replied and Riley didn't like the younger squad leader's reckless grin.

"That goes especially for you, Joel!" Riley snapped.

"Understood, sir!" Joel answered, straightening up to his full slender six foot frame and grinning again with just enough subtle sarcasm to annoy Riley. Riley had reprimanded him before for his "attitude" but there wasn't time now.

"All of you, move!" Riley commanded.

Instantly, Graham, Forrest and Joel dashed off into the night in the direction of their squads. Riley activated his communicator headset and spoke into the microphone strapped to his shirt collar.

"Alpha to Base, Hunter, do you read me?"

"Loud and clear, sir!" Hunter replied from the Main Command Center of the Initiative Complex.

The young technician stood behind the array of monitors and control panels. He wore a wireless headset that nestled in his short curly red hair. Other technicians were seated at various monitors and, across the main floor, a hoard of initiative soldiers stood at attention.

"Batten her down!" Riley ordered into his headset, "I want that place sealed up tighter than a bull's ass in fly time! Can you handle it?"

"Just a sec, sir," Hunter answered as he turned his attention to the soldiers scattered across the Command Center's main floor.  
  
"Listen up!" he shouted to the leaderless group of men, "All remaining squads are to take up assigned positions along the perimeter just inside the force fields."

None of the soldiers moved. A few cast snickering glances at one another since Hunter was the youngest and one of the shorter recruits for the Initiative. Hunter's face turned red but not with embarrassment.

"NOW, YOU SHITHEADS!" he suddenly screamed.

Surprised, the ranks of soldiers scattered in all directions headed for their assigned posts. Hunter spoke coolly into the headset to Riley.

"How was that, sir?"

Outside at the north side entrance to the Initiative, Riley grinned.

"I think you got the hang of it," he replied with admiration into the headset, "Alpha Squad moving out. Keep communications open at all times!"

Riley ran down the hillside to join the rest of the Initiative troops.

* * * * * * *

Willow and Xander burst in through the main doorway to the campus library. The library was a long towering room its outer walls lined with stacks of books and study tables grouped together around the center. The library would normally be almost deserted since it was a Friday night, but now the rumbling from the clouds and an occasional shivering of the ground, which caused the high narrow windows to rattle in their frames, had sent all but one lone student scurrying to the imagined safety of the dorms.

That student, a freshman with short cut dirty blond hair and a pair of thick lens glasses halfway down her nose, sat hunched at a table over a book with a half dozen others open by her side. An open Sprite can was within easy grasp and three empties lay scattered across the table amidst reams of loose sheets of paper. Looking up every now and then as if she were racing against time and checking that the building wasn't quite ready to collapse, she scribbled feverishly in her spiral binder and flipped the pages in the reference book beside her.

Xander stared at her for a moment.

"What the hell . . .?" he muttered.

"History term paper," Willow answered curtly.

"Oh . . . evil!"

"Come on!" Willow shouted, indicating the far end of the main library reference area.

Outside the windows, the night and rising storm cast a ghastly crimson hue down into the library. The building rumbled with another jolt of thunder. Willow and Xander raced across the main floor of the library towards the entrance to the Rare Book Room. They flew by rows and rows of reference volumes, finally halting at the entrance to the stairwell leading down to the Rare Book Room. The old Curator was seated in a chair behind a desk as if standing guard. He didn't move but only stared straight ahead.

"Excuse me, sir," Willow panted as she reached the desk, "Have you seen a student with long blond hair. She was coming here to look at a book in storage and I haven't heard . . ."

"Uh . . . Willow . . ." Xander interrupted as he stared at the unmoving form of the Curator.

Xander reached out and poked the Curator in the shoulder. The old man's body toppled forward on his desk. Several books slid away from this lifeless outstretched hands and dropped to the floor.

"You never believed me, Will, when I told you studying was bad for your health!" Xander quipped nervously indicating the books, "I mean, there are no warning labels on these things and . . ."

"TARA!" Willow yelled.

She jumped forward towards the doorway that opened onto the staircase down to the Rare Book Room but suddenly stopped and stared at the floor. Xander halted right behind her. He followed her gaze downwards at his own feet.

"What the hell . . . _is that?!" _he exclaimed.

Slithering across the floor of the library, like a fast moving stream of hell spawned liquid, a small trickle of red vapor, no more than an inch deep and two inches wide, silently flowed by their feet, into the open doorway leading to the Rare Book Room and disappeared spilling down the steel staircase.

"Oh my God! TARA!" Willow screamed.

Willow and Xander almost leaped in unison for the open doorway and plunged headlong down the stairway, their feet clanking on the steel steps and splashing the red vapor as they descended.

Behind the locked cage door of the Rare Book Room, Tara was backed up in terror against the wall. All around her, the crimson tide of vapor was now almost knee deep. Swirling before the cage door in the center of the room, the lethal cloud at her feet surged upwards and took the form of the serpent's neck and three lobed eye of Nyarlethotep. Tara clutched the Res Profana to her chest. She heard the clanking of Xander and Willow's feet on the stairs and Willow's cry.

"Help! Willow!" she screamed.

Willow and Xander emerged at the entrance of the Rare Book Room.

"Holy shit!" Xander exclaimed.

The three lobed eye of the Haunter of the Dark spun to confront them.

"I'm locked in! Get the key from the Curator!" Tara yelled.

Instantly, Xander turned and dashed back upstairs. The vaporous form of the Haunter slid towards Willow.

"A second Wiccan!" it laughed in a deep, hollow, echoing voice, "Are _you_ all this pathetic universe can rally against the power of the Ancient Ones!?"

"Tara! Giles' spell! The light! Concentrate the light!" Willow yelled.

Xander leaped out of the doorway from the staircase onto the main floor of the library. Nervously he stepped up to the dead body of the Curator. He began to fumble through the old man's pockets. As he lifted the limp head and shoulders up, Xander crinkled his face.

"Uh, . . . ya gotta excuse me for this," he babbled as he rifled through the corpse's pockets, "No really, I mean, nothing personal or anything! . . . Don't take it the wrong way. I got a girlfriend and all . . ."

Xander discovered the keys, pulled them out and exclaimed out loud.

" . . YES! . . ."

He barreled back down the stairs as he let the body of the Curator drop forward across the desk with a loud thunk.

Below, Willow and Tara focused their attention on the single bare light bulb hanging from the ceiling. Both muttered to themselves as they recited an incantation. Xander burst into the room but stopped behind Willow as if she were a shield protecting him from the powers of the Ancient One. The three lobed burning eye, now confused by the presence of two chanting Wiccans and not knowing which one to attack, turned back and forth as it struggled to take on a material form. Sensing that Nyarlethotep was nearing its physical manifestation at which point they would all be overwhelmed, Willow and Tara concentrated harder and stared hypnotically at the single incandescent bulb.

Suddenly, the light from the bulb, which was randomly spreading illumination across the room, narrowed down into one sharp laser like beam leaving the rest of the chamber in darkness. The shaft of light suddenly flew like a flaming bolt from a crossbow at the glowing red cloud of vapor that was coalescing into the Ancient One. The neck of Nyarlethotep attempted to dodge the missile but it struck home nonetheless. There was a sizzling and snapping sound, like electrical switches being slammed shut, and a loud pop. Nyarlethotep dissolved away and the crimson vapor swamping the floor disappeared.

In an instant, the room was illuminated once more by the single light bulb. Exhausted, Willow leaned against the wall, and Tara, still clutching the Res Profana, supported herself on the desk in the cage.

Xander ran across the room and unlocked the cage door. Tara dropped the book on the table and staggered out into Willow's arms. The two held each other tightly for a moment.

"Uh . . . Ladies!" Xander reminded the two Wiccans as he moved nervously towards the stairway exit, "Remember, Willow? Huggies? No time?"

"You're right!" she exclaimed, dragging Tara with her, "Let's get outta here!"

"Wait! That Book," Tara said with a cold intensity as she turned towards the Res Profana ". . . It's fulfilled its purpose. It must not survive. It has to be burned!"

"Well, who the hell except fire face up there's got any matches?!" Xander quipped.

Ignoring him, Willow and Tara turned and glared at the Res Profana. They slowly chanted together.

"Veni nobis, Ignis Caelorum! Veni nobis, Ignis Caelorum! Veni nobis, Ignis Caelorum!  
(Come hence to us, Fire of the Heavens!)"

Smoke began to billow out from under the closed cover of the Res Profana. In a moment more, as if it were sitting under the concentrated rays of a magnifying glass, the cursed volume from before time burst into flames. Willow and Tara hesitated only a few seconds to ensure that the black leather book was fully engulfed. They then turned and raced past Xander for the staircase.

"Cool!" Xander grinned as he joined them, "You guys wanna go camping in my backyard with me sometime?"

"Come on!" Willow yelled at Xander as she and Tara ascended the stairs, "That's only going to stop it for a few minutes!"

Xander quickly followed.

Willow, with Tara and Xander right behind her, charged from the staircase door to the Rare Book Room out onto the main floor of the library. Their shoes snapped loudly on the hardwood floors as all three raced across the library towards the exit. Black acrid smoke began billowing from the doorway to the Rare Book Room. The thunder outside rumbled again while the windows rattled even more loudly in their casements. The red glow in the sky grew more intense with each passing second.

As Willow, Tara and Xander tore past the lone freshman, the building fire alarm suddenly blared wildly. The freshman looked up in desperation from her unfinished term paper.

"Aw, Shit!" she moaned.

Clutching the spiral binder, the student leaped to her feet and followed the others out the main entrance. In a moment, however, she was back, scurrying with her head down to the study desk. She quickly snatched the remaining half full can of Sprite and scampered wildly, bumping into tables and chairs, back out the main entrance.

The electricity suddenly failed in the library, leaving the vast main floor bathed in the red glow from outside. The fire alarm still blared. The massive overhead fluorescent fixtures swayed and fragments of plaster broke loose from the ceiling to fall to the floor. The ground shook and books began sliding one by one and then in whole groups off the shelves. Only the corpse of the Curator remained behind, unmoving, surveying the mounting devastation, like a lone sentinel at the Gates of Hell, as the building shuddered and the Rare Book Room was engulfed in the flames below.

* * * * * * * *

Go To Chapter 24 


	24. Fabius Cunctator

**The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind**  
Chapter 24  
"Fabius Cunctator"

by Gaius Petronius

Disclaimer:  
Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB and Mutant Enemy, Inc. This story can be read on its own or as a sequel to H. P. Lovecraft's "The Haunter of the Dark" from which the Ancient Ones, the Shining Trapezohedron and the character of Robert Blake are derived.

**Content Note:** This part is rated PG-13 for a little raunchy language.

Willow, Tara and Xander dashed down the stairs outside the library main entrance. Side by side, they reached the walkway that led out into the Quadrangle. The open grass area on a Friday evening was usually full of students wandering between dormitories or lounging on the few benches lining the paths. Tonight it was virtually deserted with the few students visible rushing for shelter into the nearest buildings. Scattered faces peered out from the neighboring dormitories at nature's rising fury. The trees on the Quadrangle swayed back and forth with the surging wind. The lampposts illuminating the pathways shivered in their foundations.

Willow, Xander and Tara halted on the edge of the Quadrangle. The spread of grass and swinging trees, so inviting during the peace of daytime classes, now appeared like a potential deathtrap for any who dared to cross exposed in its open space.

"Okay, the truck's over in lot A! We're gonna make a run for it!" Xander shouted.

Suddenly the lamp lights on the Quadrangle blinked out and from behind them came the sound of shattering glass as several of the library windows caved in before the rush of the winds.

"NOW!" Xander yelled.

All three plunged forward in a mad dash across the Quadrangle towards the parking lot. They had covered no more than one third of the distance when a giant cloud of red vapor poured out of the sky directly in their path. About the center of the swirling cloud floated the three lobed burning eye of Nyarlethotep. Like a massive jellyfish, its outstretched stinging tentacles floating towards its prey, the shape of the Haunter glided towards Xander, Willow and Tara who stopped dead in their tracks.

"Okay, guys, get ready to scatter!" Xander shouted as they backed away.

"What?!" Willow cried out in confusion.

"It can't nail all three of us at once if we're not together in a group!"

In an instant, the three lobed eye released a ball of blazing plasma. Willow, Tara and Xander scrambled in different directions, each taking shelter behind a massive tree. The ball of plasma burst into flames on the walkway where they had been standing only moments before.

Suddenly, from out of the darkness on all sides of the Quadrangle, four huge arcs of what appeared to be electricity, leaped out at the Ancient One. There was a loud crackling noise and the Quadrangle was faintly illuminated by a bluish light as if it glowed under the unearthly electrical pulses from a giant Van De Graff generator. The Ancient One lurched and bellowed under the impact of the blasts. As each arc ran out of power and stopped, another picked up the attack from a different location.

In the dim light, camouflaged men laden with back packs and toting large rifles dashed between buildings, moved from tree to tree and stopped to fire the electron bursts as they advanced on the Ancient One. Joel and his Delta Squad from the Initiative moved in fast to intercept the halted entity. Joel, in the advance position, fired another alpha particle blast at the Haunter at the same time as he spoke calmly into his wireless communicator.

"Squad Leader, this is Delta Squad. We have engaged our bogey in block E978. We've got three civilians pinned and are laying down fire to distract its attention."

Riley and his squad of eight men jumped out of a humvee on a downtown street several blocks distant from MacDuffie's shop. The men scattered, taking up positions along the buildings lining the street. The entire downtown appeared deserted. No cars raced up and down as usual on a Friday night and only an occasional face peered from the windows of the surrounding buildings, the ominous atmospheric turbulence having driven all to take shelter. Riley replied to Joel's message.

"Delta Squad, this is Squad Leader. You hear me, Joel?!"

In the Quadrangle, Joel advanced further and took cover behind the tree with Xander.

"Gotcha loud and clear, sir," he barked over his headset.

"Hunter! Are you tracking this?!" Riley shouted.

In the Command Center of the Initiative, Hunter and a half dozen technicians were riveted to their monitors.

"Bullseye on the main screen, sir!" Hunter yelled.

"Keep us posted on any changes in it's position!" Riley ordered Hunter, then turned his attention to Joel, "Joel, what effect are the alpha bursts having?!"

At the same time, an arc of alpha particles leaped from the rifle of one of the Initiative soldiers on the edge of the Quadrangle. The Ancient One lurched and spun in the direction of the blast.

"It sure as shit doesn't like 'em!" Joel yelled into his headset.

"Is that Riley!?" Xander yelled as he grabbed Joel by the collar and screamed into his headset.

"Riley! This is Xander! I got Willow and Tara with me. We have stuff to help put this thing down but we gotta get back to Buffy at the shop! We're gonna make a run for it!"

"Xander?" Riley exclaimed stunned.

Suddenly he understood the situation in the Quadrangle.

"Joel! Lay down covering fire!" Riley shouted urgently into his headset, "Those civilians have to get outta there!"

Hunter's voice from the increasingly chaotic Command Center broke in over the squad headsets.

"Hey, guys!" he shouted, "The infrared readings are surging big time in E978! You better all clear out NOW!"

Joel quickly grabbed Xander and almost pushed him in the direction of the parking lot.

"Get your friends and run like shit! We'll cover ya!"

"Thanks! Good luck!" Xander shouted back over his shoulder.

Xander dashed across the walkway towards the tree sheltering Willow. At the same time, Nyarlethotep released a ball of flaming plasma at one of the Squad soldiers firing from the edge of the Quadrangle. There was a flash of red flames as the soldier disappeared in the burst of crimson fire. Xander gasped but kept his attention focused on Willow and Tara.

He dragged Willow roughly out from behind the tree and together they ran over to Tara who crouched behind one of the oldest oaks on campus. From the single massive tree that sheltered them, all three each took a deep breath and then broke into a run across the Quadrangle towards the parking lot.

"Delta Squad! Shift positions! Fire at will!" Joel screamed into his headset.

A burst of alpha particle blasts lit up the darkness on the Quadrangle from all directions as the Initiative soldiers dashed back and forth. The Haunter of the Dark responded with plasma blasts, touching off fires that leaped like monstrous claws towards the red sky.

Xander, Willow and Tara reached the parking lot and scrambled into the truck. In a moment, the engine sprang to life and the truck lurched forward as Xander popped the clutch. The truck stalled. Cursing, Xander restarted the engine and, this time, successfully forced the vehicle into first gear. He burned rubber as the truck peeled out of the parking lot and disappeared down the street.

Behind them, in the Quadrangle, the alpha particle blasts became fewer and fewer as the plasma bursts from the Ancient One increased in number. Finally, the arcing electric pulses ceased all together, leaving only red smoke and flames billowing up from the once green lawns of the Quadrangle.

On the deserted street in downtown Sunnydale, Riley shouted into his headset.

"Delta Squad Leader! Do you read me?! Come in Delta Squad Leader! Joel! What the hell's happening!? Hunter, are you picking up Delta Squad?!"

"Negative, Alpha Leader!" Hunter replied from the Command Center, "But that infrared burst is covering virtually all of block E978! I'm recalibrating the scans now! The sensors are overloading!"

In the Quadrangle, all around the towering image of Nyarlethotep, the flames licked up the trees and clawed at the sky overhead as if they were worshiping the Ancient One. For a moment, the Haunter of the Dark surveyed the devastation all around. Slowly, it raised its neck and the three lobed burning eye stared out beyond the campus buildings.

At the same time in her guarded office, Maggie Walsh was glued to her computer screen. She muttered as she typed furiously.

"Just one more string of code and . . . _Voila!"_

She tapped the enter key and grinned evilly. Suddenly emergency klaxon horns blared throughout the Initiative Headquarters. In the Command Center, technicians scurried about the monitors and tapped frantically at their keyboards as all their readings went haywire. Hunter, his mouth open in astonishment, stared at the screen in front of him.

"What the Hell!?" he yelled at the chaos now threatening to overwhelm the Command Center.

"Sir! We just lost all control to the security systems!" a technician shouted in a panic from down the table of sensors, "Defense force fields are going down all around the perimeter!"

"SHIT!" Hunter cursed as he tapped frantically at his keyboard in a desperate effort to regain control of the emergency systems.

"Hunter! What the hell is going on there?!" Riley's voice sounded tinny through Hunter's headset.

"We've got a security breach!" he exclaimed while still struggling with strings of programming code, "Someone hacked into the system and shut down all the perimeter force fields!"

". . . Maggie . . ." Riley muttered to himself on the darkened street downtown. "It's Professor Walsh!" he shouted into his headset, "She knows the system inside and out!"

"Take control of the Professor's quarters!" Hunter snarled at three soldiers in front of the command consoles, "Throw her in a detention cell! NOW!" The soldiers scrambled as one down the main floor corridor.

In her office, Maggie Walsh leaned back in her chair in front of the monitor on her desk. Calmly, she folded her hands in her lap and grinned as if waiting for the final move on the chessboard.

"I've always marveled at the power wielded by a simple keystroke . . ." she announced out loud as if she were preparing to put Riley in checkmate.

She gazed at the walls of the room and realized that she was relishing the blazing crimson night that was descending on Sunnydale.

". . . now . . . come to Mama!" she said.

In the campus Quadrangle, Nyarlethotep floated over the devastation for a moment more. Then, its entire body dissolved into a crimson mist and surged upwards dispersing into the red sky. The rising wail of sirens from approaching fire and emergency vehicles echoed from just beyond the campus.

Across town, chain link fencing surrounded the Sunnydale power station. Enormous transformers and the main generating building covered almost two city blocks while dozens of massive cables which fed the raw power to the city were attached to huge steel high tension towers leading off in several directions. Clouds of steam poured from a pair of wide mouth concrete stacks by the side of the generation building.

Suddenly, directly overhead, the red sky swirled with a mounting turbulence. The underbelly of the clouds began to turn, doing barrel rolls in the direction of the power plant.

In her office, Walsh quickly unplugged her keyboard and hefted it by the end with two hands as if it were an awkward weapon. She ran across the room and flattened herself against the wall by the doorway.

In the Command Center, Hunter and a technician worked feverishly at their keyboards.

"I can't bring the defense perimeters back on line!" the young assistant shouted, "The Main console's been locked out! HOLY SHIT!"

"Whatcha got?!" Hunter called back without looking up from his own keyboard.

"Readings have dropped in E978! But we have a major surge in B237!"

"Oh my God! Generators!" Hunter screamed desperately, realizing what was about to happen, "I want the back up generators on-line NOW!"

"Hunter! Talk to me!!" Riley's voice crackled over Hunter's headset.

"It's targeting the power plant, Sir! We're gonna lose the juice!

Riley stood speechless on the deserted street under the bright street lamps. He breathed deeply as his mind raced desperately to devise a strategy.

In the sky over the Sunnydale Power Plant, the twisting mass of clouds swirled together into the form of Nyarlethotep. With a hideous scream, it swept down out of the sky and released a blast of flaming plasma at the building housing the main generators. There was momentary silence as a flash of red light surged all around followed by a massive explosion. In a second, the building was engulfed in flames. Severed power lines few in every direction. Transformers shattered and burst in showers of sparks. The high voltage towers toppled and collapsed like twisted Erector sets.

From the hillside overlooking Sunnydale, the lights suddenly blinked out. Only the lurid crimson illumination now cascading down from the sky bathed the city as if it were awash in a river of blood.

In MacDuffie's shop, the lights suddenly snapped off. Cordelia, Angel, Kate, Buffy, and Giles looked at each other in fear. Anya struggled with her console for the bank of floodlights. She twirled dials and threw toggle switches all to no effect.

"They don't work!" she shouted not looking up from her control panel, "We've lost them! Giles! The power's out! We've lost the floods!"

Buffy stared at Giles, her face desperately begging for an answer. Giles ran to the front window and, with Angel and Kate beside him, stared out onto the darkened street.

"The block's out," he said flatly.

"It must have hit the power plant . . ." Angel answered, his voice laced with tension.

". . . and without Xander's lights . . . we're defenseless . . ." Buffy murmured to herself.

Alone by the entrance to the storage room housing the Shining Trapezohedron, MacDuffie stared blankly at Faith lying on the cot.

In Giles' apartment, Spike lay flopped on the couch in front of the television. He sipped a glass of blood as he prepared to watch the day's soap opera tapes on the VCR. The voice of a soap actress from the television's puny 3 inch speaker squeaked in the apartment.

"Edmund! You're sleeping with your dead brother's wife! But he's still alive!"

"Ooo, I think I'm gonna like this!" Spike grinned as he settled in.

Suddenly the lights snapped off and the image on the TV screen went out with a little pop.

"Hey! Wot the bloody hell!"

In her office, Maggie Walsh, the keyboard firmly gripped in her hands, hovered against the wall by the door. The lights flickered out and a battery powered emergency lighting box near the ceiling snapped on.

"Soldier! What's going on?" she yelled to the Guard in the hallway.

The lock on the door clicked open as the Guard entered.

"The power's out Ma'am and we're going over to . . ."

Before the guard could take two steps into the room, Maggie Walsh swung the keyboard in his face as if it were a club. Caught totally unawares, the stunned Initiative soldier toppled backwards into the hallway. Walsh leaped across his body, grabbing the loose rifle and, crouched down, quickly scanning up and down the hallway. Around the corner stepped the three Initiative Soldiers sent to take her to the containment cells. Without hesitation or warning, Professor Walsh opened fire. One soldier dropped motionless to the floor and the others retreated for cover back the way they came. Walsh raced down the hallway in the opposite direction and disappeared around a corner.

Clutching the Guard's rifle, she burst into the Command Center. Professor Walsh quickly strode in front of the Control consoles and fired a round into a monitor which exploded in a shower of sparks. She then pointed her rifle at Hunter. Other soldiers raised their weapons and took aim at their former commander.

"Nobody moves" she yelled, "Or your little Youth Group leader here is dead!"

All the soldiers froze, and Hunter stood firmly behind the row of consoles. Suddenly, on the far wall across the main floor, a glowing red vapor poured out of the ventilator grates and seeped through the seams of the wall boards and flooring. It swirled upwards into an enormous crimson shape with outstretched wings and snake-like neck. On the end of the neck floated the three lobed eye of Nyarlethotep. The eye swayed back and forth as if studying the small form of Maggie Walsh in front of it. The Professor, her eyes blazing with excitement, turned to face the Haunter of the Dark.

"Well, . . . I see you took my bait. How convenient," she said sarcastically, her voice betraying traces of a hollow echo that the Initiative soldiers didn't recognize.

Hunter didn't move but whispered into his headset.

"Uh, Riley? Do you read me? This is Hunter," he said quietly with a desperate casualness.

"Hunter! What's going on?" Riley shouted into his headset from the now pitch black streets of downtown Sunnydale.

"It's here . . . the bogey . . . with us . . . in the Command Center," Hunter replied, "It's staring right at me . . . and it doesn't look happy."

"WHAT!"

"Maggie let it in . . . " Hunter continued sarcastically, "She's trying to talk to it now . . ."

The soldiers, their rifles now trained on the Haunter, slowly backed away. Maggie Walsh didn't move but rather glared at the three lobed eye. Nyarlethotep swayed back and forth like a cobra hypnotizing its prey.

"Well, now that you're here, would you like to make this easy and accompany me to a detention cell? . . . No? . . . I didn't think so." As Professor Walsh spoke, Hunter made a subconscious note that it looked like the former Initiative Commander's eyes were now glowing red. He had only one option left.

"Riley . . ." he whispered over the headset, "I need the Fabius Code . . ."

"Fabius!? But Hunter . . ." Riley's mind reeled at the thought.

"Uh, Commander . . ." Hunter interrupted him, speaking with an exaggerated normality to his voice, "I think now would be very cool. All security has been breached and everything is wide open. And in about five seconds Maggie's gonna insult it, and we'll all be toast anyway."

For a moment, Riley stood in silence. Nearby, the other soldiers from the squad halted, aware that they were suddenly rendered leaderless. When Riley finally spoke, his voice was flat and empty as if it were echoing back from beyond his own grave.

". . . "Cunctator" . . ." he said slowly.

"Is that with a 'C?'" Hunter whispered politely in his headset.

". . . yeah . . ." Riley answered.

". . . thank you . . ." Hunter replied.

Without stooping to reveal his motions, Hunter's fingers flew secretively across the keyboard in front of him. He quickly tapped the return key. A computerized voice blared from the Initiative PA system.

"Attention all personnel! Attention all personnel! Fabius has been activated. Repeat, Fabius has been activated. All personnel must evacuate the site within 120 seconds."

The voice droned on, over and over, mingling with the blare of the klaxons. Walsh spun in a fury to face Hunter.

"You little stinking bastard!" she screamed.

She fired her rifle as Hunter leaped for cover behind the command console. His monitor exploded raining sparks and debris across the console. The other soldiers and technicians scattered for the exits. Pinned down behind the console, Hunter yelled into his headset as Walsh sprayed the Command Center with rifle fire.

"All Personnel! Abandon your posts! Repeat, abandon your posts!"

Something stung in his leg just above the knee.

Graham and Forrest ran out of a side alley where their troops have been posted and joined Riley.

"Riley! What the fuck is going on at Command!?" Forrest exclaimed.

"Hunter! Report! Hunter, do you read me?!" Riley yelled into his headset, ignoring Forrest.

On the main floor of the Command Center, Maggie Walsh's rifle clip was finally empty. She threw the weapon aside and seized an abandoned alpha particle pack and its rifle. The Ancient One hovered closer as it continued to study her. She spun around to confront it.

"All right, you big red scaly bastard!" she yelled in an hysterical fury, "Since all the other chicken shits are gone, it's just you and me!"

At the same time, Hunter crawled across the floor towards the end of the shattered Command console.

"Well, you really gotta hand it to the old bitch!" he yelled ironically into his headset, "She's talking to it again!"

"Attention all personnel! Attention all personnel!" the PA system blared over the chaos, "Fabius has been activated. Repeat, Fabius has been activated. All personnel must evacuate the site within 60 seconds."

Walsh raised the alpha rifle and fired at Nyarlethotep. The Ancient One swayed from the impact of the arc of alpha particles. It swung one of its wings at Professor Walsh and knocked her off her feet. The rifle flew from her arms sending the energy arc spraying across the walls and power panels of the Initiative. Circuits exploded as sparks and fire spread from whatever the alpha particle arc touched.

Lying prostrate on the floor, Maggie Walsh looked up and back over her shoulder. The Ancient One hovered directly behind her. Rather than reducing her to ashes in a plasma burst, it only stared down at her as flames began to lick up the walls of the Command Center. Suddenly her body turned crimson and the flesh began to transform into a vaporous mist. She screamed and thrashed, unable to stop the metamorphosis. In a second, the transformation was complete and the cloud of vapor that was once Professor Walsh was sucked up into the vortex of the three lobed burning eye of Nyarlethotep.

Hunter, crouched on the floor at the edge of the blasted console, stared in amazement.

"Holy Shit! Riley!" he yelled, "Our bogey, it didn't fry Maggie! It like, absorbed her!

"Attention all personnel! Attention all personnel! Fabius has been activated. Repeat, Fabius has been activated. All personnel must evacuate the site within 30 seconds. . . . 29 . . . 28 . . . 27 . . . !"

Hunter struggled to his feet. As he did, he grinned and spoke into his headset with a desperate finality.

"Okay, folks! This is Hunter signing off here! It's been fun!"

Hunter stumbled wildly towards an exit at the back of the Command Center.

On the blackened streets of downtown Sunnydale, Riley, with Forrest and Graham at his side, only stared straight ahead in horror. Over all their headsets came the faint sound of the computer generated count down.

". . . 20 . . . 19 . . . 18 . . . 17 . . ."

Back at the Initiative, Hunter staggered down the central hallway of the detention wing between the holding cells on either side. The hallway was empty and dark except for the faint glow from an emergency battery powered light on the wall.

". . . 16 . . . 15 . . . 14 . . . 13 . . ."

Halfway down the hall, Hunter suddenly fell forward on his face as if one of his legs had suddenly given out. He winced in pain and struggled to sit back up. He wrapped his hands around a point above his left knee as blood gushed out of a bullet wound.

"Aw man! How the fuck did that get there?!"

With a supreme effort, Hunter struggled to his feet and lurched forward.

The three squad leaders listened in mounting horror to the emotionless computer generated voice from the Initiative Headquarters.

". . . 6 . . . 5 . . . 4 . . . 3 . . . 2 . . ."

Suddenly, a faint crackling sound emitted from the headsets followed by a sharp snap. Then silence.

Overhead, a bright red flash seared the sky. Riley screamed into his headset.

"HUNTER! . . . HUNTER!"

From the mile distant vantage point on the hillside overlooking Sunnydale, by the edge of the college campus, a bright red ball of flames suddenly leaped skyward in a billowing mushroom cloud. Throughout the explosion, the monstrous form of Nyarlethotep, its wings outspread in rejoicing, spewed into the sky and circled wildly around the devastation. Quickly, a second shape appeared, amorphous, unformed but racing madly back and forth across the city as if it were the wind itself. In the distance by the docks, the sea suddenly surged out of its appointed bounds and roared blocks inland, lifting the moored tankers and freighters up, smashing them into any buildings blocking their path land ward. Then the air and ground began to shake on the hillside itself as the shock waves from the explosion at the Initiative Headquarters caught up with the faster rays of light.

In the hallway of Tara's dorm on the campus, several students cowered against the walls as the flames on the Quadrangle slowly died down. Suddenly there was a bright flash of red light, and a shattering of glass as windows blew in. The building shook violently and anyone standing was thrown to the pitching floor.

Blocks away, Xander's truck careened crazily down the center line of the street. What few other vehicles were on the road, dodged his headlong flight and blew their horns. A brilliant red flash illuminated the sky. Seconds later, the street began to heave and pitch with the tremors from the Initiative Headquarters explosion. Xander struggled to retain control of the truck. At his side, Willow grabbed Tara and screamed as the front of a building slid off from the trembler and collapsed in the street directly in their path. Xander yanked the steering wheel hard and crashed headlong into a tilted street lamp. There was a loud crunch followed by the hissing of steam from the truck's punctured radiator. The whole front end of the truck buckled in and no one stirred in the cab.

In the New Age Curiosity Shop, Giles lit an old glass globe kerosene lantern. A bright red flash momentarily illuminated the street outside and spilled into the shop, overpowering the dim illumination from the lantern. Anya looked up from her lifeless control panel while Angel, Kate and Giles stared at each other. In a moment, the building began to shake as the ground trembled. Outside, the wind suddenly rose, whipping up and down the deserted street. Buffy, her face washed in fear, stepped up beside Giles and stared at him.

"We're next . . . aren't we?" she asked quietly.

Giles didn't answer. In the corner of the room, MacDuffie suddenly looked away from Faith and stared anxiously out the front window.

". . . Willow! . . ." he said outloud.

He quickly threw off his trench coat, reached over to his desk and pulled out the ancient short sword he used the night before. Purposefully, he strode across the shop and out the front door.

"Hey! Where's he going?" Cordelia called to the others.

"Anson! Anson!" Giles shouted after the Guardian.

MacDuffie didn't answer. Rather he stared straight ahead as if he were marching towards a scaffold of his own making. He quickly broke into a run and disappeared up the street into the crimson darkness.

The ground shuddered under Riley, Graham and Forrest. All three dropped to their knees to maintain their balance. The wind billowed up around them, sending debris and trash from overturned garbage cans flying up the street. In a moment more, the rumbling of the ground faded away. For a few seconds, Riley was silent. Then he spoke into his headset. His voice quivered.

"Base, . . . this is Alpha Squad Leader. Hell of a first command, there Hunter. . . . Good job, Soldier . . . "

Riley bowed his head. No one moved. Suddenly, as if re-energized, Riley rose to his feet. He leaned with determination born of another's sacrifice into the roaring wind. Forrest and Graham, now on their feet too, looked at Riley and awaited his orders.

"Riley . . . what the hell happened?" Forrest shouted not to be drowned out by the growing din all around them.

"The Command Center is gone," Riley answered staring out into the darkness," We're on our own. Fan the squads out one block distance on all sides of that shop. Conserve as much energy as you can from your alpha packs. We only have four or five shots per pack, then we're outta business. When we know which direction the bogey is coming from, we'll concentrate our forces there. Everyone move out!"

Graham and Forrest quickly turned and ran back up the alley towards their own squads. Riley stood alone. He gritted his teeth and slowly whispered into his headset.

"Alpha Squad Leader to Base . . . over and out."

There was no response. Only the faint hiss of static drifted from the headset and was quickly lost in the roar of the rising winds.

* * * * * * *

Go To Chapter 25 


	25. I am of the past

**The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind**

**Chapter 25  
"I am of the past . . ."**

by Gaius Petronius

Disclaimer:  
Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB and Mutant Enemy, Inc. This story can be read on its own or as a sequel to H. P. Lovecraft's "The Haunter of the Dark" from which the Ancient Ones, the Shining Trapezohedron and the character of Robert Blake are derived.

**Content Note:** This part is rated PG-13 for violence and some raunchy language.

Moments after the explosion of the Initiative, the entire facade of the old brick front warehouse had collapsed, completely blocking the street. All power to the street lamps and the city was out with the destruction of the power plant. Every few moments, a lone car drove down the street, met the obstruction of the building wreckage, turned around and drove back up the way it came. A half dozen people gathered around the collapsed building and began working through the debris as they searched for anyone trapped inside.

No one paid any attention to the wreck of Xander's truck across the street only a few yards beyond the mound of shattered bricks. The front end of the truck was crumpled and the windshield shattered as the light pole Xander hit snapped off and came down punching in the roof of the cab. For a few minutes, there was no movement from inside. Then on the passenger side, someone rattled the door handle and weakly beat on the window.

"Help! Help! Somebody!" Tara cried faintly from the cab.

Suddenly, a loud hissing noise emanated from the warehouse ruins, and the group around the wrecked building scattered as several people yelled.

"Gas! Everybody get back! There's a gas leak!" someone shouted in a panic.

For a moment, it seemed as if the very street held its breath. Then an explosion ripped through the warehouse as the leaking gas line ignited, bringing much of the remaining structure still standing toppling down, burying several of the bystanders. Shattered bricks flew across the street, smashing the rear and side windows of Xander's truck where he, Willow and Tara were trapped. Glass on buildings shattered up and down the block and, in front of the collapsed warehouse, a flaming jet of natural gas shot in a violent fountain skyward. The glow from the flames matched the red glare of the sky.

Inside the truck, Tara pounded wildly on the jammed door.

"HELP! SOMEBODY!"

The few remaining people fled. Several bodies lay scattered about the mounds of broken bricks. The warehouse was now fully engulfed and the fire spread both to neighboring buildings as well as cars parked out front. The heat from the blaze rose rapidly, and the flames threatened to leap the street, igniting more structures and even Xander's truck. Sparks showered down on the truck box and crushed cab. Tara yanked at the door, and her cries became screams of desperation.

"SOMEBODY, PLEASE HELP!"

At the far end of the street around the corner, MacDuffie raced into view. He stopped, quickly scanned in both directions, and immediately spotted the crippled truck. With the ancient short sword still firmly clutched in his hand, he broke into a mad sprint up the avenue towards the fire. As he reached the vehicle, he brushed off the cinders that fell on his shoulders.

"WILLOW! It's MacDuffie!" he shouted as he pulled on the jammed door to no avail.

"It's Tara!" Tara screamed from inside, "Willow's here with me."

"I'm okay . . . I'm fine. Xander?" Willow's voice spoke weakly from the crushed cab. Xander only groaned.

Second by second, the fire drew closer and, at the same time, the crimson cast in the sky intensified. MacDuffie could feel the heat now starting to sear his face. Suddenly a screech from the sky, like the cry of an evil bird of prey, echoed down the street, heralding the search over head of Nyarlethotep.

"All of you slide away from the passenger side door!" MacDuffie yelled urgently.

He rammed the point of the short sword into an open space near the crushed cab roof where the door joint was bent away from the body of the cab. He jimmied the sword down the joint until it reached the point next to the latch. Then, using the sword as a crow bar, the Guardian bore down with all his strength on the ancient weapon's handle.

At first, nothing happened. Then, slowly, the fittings of the lock began to give under the pressure and a rending groan of bending steel issued from the door. Again, MacDuffie applied all his strength to the lever and the groan intensified culminating in a sharp metallic snap as the latch inside the lock failed and the door sprang free. The ancient blade now sported several more fresh notches.

The Guardian swung the truck door wide open on its damaged hinges amidst the sound of scraping metal. He looked nervously up the street past the fire in the direction from which the cry of the Haunter emanated. Tara quickly slid out of the truck. She turned and pulled Willow, who wobbled on her feet. Tara and MacDuffie then both reached in and dragged Xander out. Blood pouring from a cut on his face, he plopped to the pavement and sat stunned. Every second, the screams overhead in the clouds grew louder.

"I think he hit the windshield," Willow said as she knelt beside Xander and brushed the bloodstained hair off his forehead.

"Alexandros, can you stand?" The old Guardian said, casting a worried glance over his shoulder, "It's imperative that you all get out of here now!"

Xander nodded his headand staggered to his feet. Suddenly the piercing scream echoed down the street from beyond the collapsed flaming warehouse. Past the smoke and fire, the three lobed burning eye at the end of the giant serpent's neck swept around the corner at second story level. It's enormous wings beat up a wind fouled by an acrid stench which caused the group to gasp for breath.

"We're out of time! Run, Lassie!" MacDuffie shouted at Willow, "RUN!"

For a second, Willow didn't move but only stared at him in horror.

"No! We're not leaving you!" she suddenly blurted out.

"Uh, Willow, . . . " Xander stammered as he stared at the advancing form of the Haunter of the Dark, "Maybe running isn't such a bad idea!"

"NO!" she screamed despite what she could now clearly see both in the present and immediate future.

"YES!" MacDuffie shouted back at her as he grabbed her by the shoulders, "Listen to me, Lassie! I know Rupert said we were supposed to have a little chat, but things have gone a tad beyond that now! I know I've been a poor teacher but look into your heart . . ."

Willow stared directly into the old Guardian's eyes.

"You, Tara and Alexandros must help Faith!" he whispered.

"What?" she exclaimed

"You all must get back to the shop . . . and help Faith. She's the one!"

"I don't understand?" Willow stammered, "What about Buffy? . . . and you!"

"What you do at this moment in time will determine the direction of all future actions that will culminate in the final salvation of the world," MacDuffie explained rapidly, "But, as for me . . . what do you see?"

Willow didn't answer but only stared back with despair mounting on her face.

"Of course . . . you see it, just as I do!" he said urgently, "There is no place for me in that new world. I am of the past as was my father and all the Guardians before me, and my fate is sealed here at this moment so that you and the future will have a chance! You know the old wisdom that says sometimes you must give up that which you love in order to save it! It is to all of you, now, each with your own powers, that the role of the Guardians must fall."

Willow, sobbing, struggled to shake her head but couldn't.

"Go, Lassie . . . I beg you!" he whispered, barely heard over the screaming of Nyarlethotep.

Behind them, the Haunter swept down the street and surged into the blazing jet from the ruptured gas line. It halted, reveling and bathing itself in the shooting red flames.

Tara and Xander pulled at Willow's shoulder, and she stumbled backwards away from MacDuffie as her friends tried to lead her away down the street. She kept looking back at the old shopkeeper who's form was now silhouetted in the blaze roaring up behind him. Tara and Xander, dragging Willow along, broke into a run. They reached an intersection where Willow would move no further. All three took shelter at the corner of a building and stared back at the lone figure of MacDuffie standing as the last line of defense between them and the Haunter of the Dark.

MacDuffie turned, directly facing the towering nightmare as it beat its wings in the flames from the shooting gas.

"We meet again, Guardian . . . " the disembodied voice growled, "Only this time you have no Slayer or light machines to save you."

"Be gone, Servus Damnatorum!" the Guardian replied firmly, "Return to the eternal darkness of Shaggai!"

"Brave words as always," it replied, "And, as always, words alone. The Ancient Ones haven't feasted on the soul of a Guardian in centuries. Your agonized spirit will make a tasty banquet and the Guardian's knowledge and powers a stirring repast."

"That's a meal the Ancient Ones will choke on first!" MacDuffie replied with rising fury.

"And after we have fed on you," it continued, "Next will be those two miserable Wiccans . . ."

Willow's eyes widened in horror. Xander nudged her shoulder.

"See! Running is good!" he whispered to her.

Suddenly, Willow yanked away from Tara and Xander's grasp. Her eyes blazed with an anger her friends had never seen. She marched back up the street, followed by Xander and Tara, yelling at the Haunter of the Dark. Nyarlethotep immediately turned its attention to the advancing three.

"If it's a Wiccan you want, here I am!" she yelled, drawing the Haunter's attention.

"NO, Lassie!" MacDuffie screamed.

MacDuffie, grasping his sword firmly by the hilt with both hands, raised it in defiance before him. The flat side of the blade faced directly at the Haunter. The ancient short weapon now glowed with a bright yellow light that pierced the oppressive red haze. Sensing a more present threat, the three lobed burning eye released a blazing glob of plasma at MacDuffie. The plasma struck the yellow glow surrounding the sword and spattered off in all directions, the fragments lighting fires wherever they landed

Staggered by the force of the plasma blast, the Guardian dropped to one knee, the yellow glowing shield around his weapon now reduced by half. Willow, Tara and Xander halted and stood frozen to the spot.

Again, Nyarlethotep fired a blast of blazing red liquid at MacDuffie and again, it splattered off the yellow shield of light emanating from the sword. The Guardian collapsed to both knees and bent forward with one hand supporting him off the pavement. He was now barely able to hold the sword upright in front of him with the other remaining free hand. The yellow glow shielding him dimmed quickly, flickered and then finally winked out.

The snake like neck of Nyarlethotep arched upwards as if ready to administer the final blow. Suddenly, with what appeared to be his last remaining ounce of strength, MacDuffie spun on both knees as he pitched the sword backwards though the air behind him. The weapon sailed down the street to land almost directly at Xander's feet. He quickly stooped, grasped the sword with both hands and lifted it up in front of them.

As if re-energized, the short dented weapon blazed anew with the yellow light, casting a shield all around Xander, Willow and Tara. Seeing he had accomplished his final objective, MacDuffie bowed his head. The Haunter of the Dark released a third blast of red plasma at the now defenseless old man. Trailing flames behind it, the deadly missile seemed to travel in slow motion towards its objective. Willow screamed out in anger and despair as Tara held her back.

"NO! . . . NO!"

The blazing ball of fire enveloped the Guardian. For a moment it appeared as if his kneeling form were nothing more than the shadow of humanity in its final moments before the end of the world. Then, that too was gone, swallowed up by the crimson fire. Willow wept wildly through her screams.

"NO! . . . NO! . . ."

Suddenly, Tara shook Willow and pointed at the spot where the ball of plasma burst moments before.

"Willow, look!" she yelled.

Willow focused her eyes on the spot where Tara pointed. There amidst the curling flames, a small wisp of yellow light, like a tiny scrap of tattered silk flapping bravely in a hurricane wind, darted out of the fires in front of Nyarlethotep. As if sensing their prey was escaping, the flames licked wildly in the direction of the light, but the little shape of yellow illumination was too quick. It sped down the street, paused for a fleeting moment high above Willow, Tara and Xander, and then soared over the surrounding buildings and disappeared into the night sky.

". . . Willow, he got away! . . . " Tara whispered, "His soul got away!"

Willow, still sobbing and her face bathed in tears, managed to smile in relief.

"Come on! We gotta do the same!" Xander urged fearfully.

Suddenly, Nyarlethotep lurched forward and fired a plasma burst at the three of them. Both Wiccans screamed as Tara wrapped her arms protectively around Willow. At the last second, Xander instinctively raised the sword in front of him the same way MacDuffie had moments earlier. The plasma struck the yellow light of the blade shielding them and splattered off in all directions. Xander swayed from the impact of the blast, then braced his feet on the ground in preparation for another attack.

"HOLY SHIT!" he yelled as the flames flew all around them.

Suddenly, without warning, bright arcs of what appeared to be lightning crackled and leaped from concealed positions among the burning buildings. The Haunter swayed with the impact of each jolt. It spun wildly, not knowing in which direction to return fire. A camouflaged figure darted out from one of the buildings and corralled Xander, Tara and Willow. The soldier pulled them into the shadow of a building and forced them all to crouch down.

"Riley!" Willow shouted in surprise.

"Listen up quick!" he shouted as everyone huddled against the concealing walls of the building, "The squads are gonna try to hold it here as long as we can! Then we'll fall back block by block! You guys get down to the shop and help Buffy with whatever she has to do!"

"But, Riley . . ." Willow protested.

At the same time, the Haunter fired a burst of plasma into the darkness where an Initiative commando was shooting an alpha particle beam. In the surge of flames, the particle beam suddenly ceased.

"No Time! Run, NOW!" Riley yelled.

Xander, Willow and Tara broke away in a mad scramble down the street. In a few seconds, they turned the corner at the intersection and disappeared from Riley's view. Riley quickly returned his attention to Nyarlethotep.

"Beta Squad, this is Alpha Leader!" he shouted into his headset, "Three civilians are passing through your block!"

The voice of Forrest crackled back over the earphones.

"I see them Alpha Leader!"

"Hold your position!" Riley ordered, "Do not advance! Hold your position until Alpha Squad falls back!"

"Understood, sir!" Forrest replied coolly.

A charge of alpha particles leaped up the street across from Riley's position and slammed into the Ancient One. Spinning in fury, the three lobed burning eye fired a burst of plasma, but the missile missed its target. The lone commando, having fired his burst, disappeared from sight, slipping down an alley between two buildings as the fireball exploded against the brick front of one of the structures. Globs of fire splattered in Riley's direction, and he dropped flat to the street.

"Son of A BITCH!" he exclaimed as he hit the pavement hard.

"That you, Alpha Leader?" sounded the cheery voice of Graham over the headset, "Hey, Riley! What's it like up there?"

Riley, who was still flat on the pavement, quickly glanced at all the advancing fires around him. He dead panned into his headset.

". . . hot . . . Don't be so cocky, Gamma Leader! You gotta cover Beta Squad's ass as they fall back."

Another camouflaged commando stepped out from between two buildings and halted by Riley's side. He aimed his rifle at the Haunter of the Dark but as he pulled the trigger nothing happened. He tried to fire again but with the same result. Suddenly his weapon emitted over and over a two toned high pitched screaming sound, like the miniature wail of an ambulance siren.

"Steve! What's happening?!" Riley yelled at the commando.

"It's jammed, sir!" the soldier shouted as he started to panic, "She won't fire and the alpha generator keeps charging!"

The three lobed burning eye of Nyarlethotep swung in the direction of Riley and Steve. Its neck arched back as it prepared to release another plasma burst at the two soldiers. Riley jumped to his feet and snatched the rifle from the frightened soldier. For a second he fiddled with the rifle's controls, then yanked the connecting wires from the generating pack and pitched the rifle so that it landed in the street less than a dozen yards in front of Nyarlethotep.

"Alpha Squad! Weapons malfunction!" Riley screamed into his headset, "HIT THE DECK! COVER YOUR EYES!"

As Riley and Steve dropped to the pavement, the malfunctioning rifle exploded. There was no blasting roar from the disintegrating rifle but rather a loud electrical pop followed by the outward rush of wind from the concussion. However, the overloading rifle upon detonation emitted a blinding flash of light so intense it illuminated the entire street bright as day.

Nyarlethotep emitted a hideous scream and the three lobed eye on the end of the serpent's neck twisted away and buried itself in its monstrous black wings. For a few moments, the creature's physical form wavered, like a drifting television signal, growing snowy and without substance. It vanished for less that three seconds but then rematerialized in a burst of red plasma.

"Did you see that!" Riley shouted in amazement at the speechless Initiative soldier.

"You did it, Steve!" Riley continued excitedly and then shouted into his headset, "All Squads, this is Alpha Leader! Listen up! We got something here! Two men from each squad with fully charged packs are to fall back and take cross fire positions in front of the magic shop in block E375! _They are not to fire_ on our bogey! Repeat, they are to keep their packs fully charged and _prepared to set to overload!_ We finally found a way to fight this thing, guys! Any other soldiers with discharged weapons are to rendezvous at the shop as well and assist the civilians there as needed!"

"Got it, sir!" Forrest's voice crackled over the headset.

"My men are on the way right now!" Graham answered almost immediately as well.

Back up the street, Nyarlethotep had completely rematerialized. It swayed back and forth getting its bearings. Slowly it arched its neck up to the sky as if drinking in the dark crimson clouds barrel rolling overhead.

"Alpha Squad, this is Alpha Leader," Riley said calmly with the first hope he had felt all evening, "Fall back _now._ This sucker looks pissed!"

Riley and Steve turned and ran down the street towards the intersection where Xander, Tara and Willow had disappeared earlier. Suddenly, Nyarlethotep released plasma bursts wildly in all directions, virtually incinerating the entire block.

"Sorry about my rifle, sir!" Steve shouted to Riley as they both dashed for the corner at the intersection.

"It's okay!" Riley answered over the rising din.

"But I fucked it up real bad! Maggie said those thing cost . . ."

"WILL YOU SHUT UP AND RUN YA DUMB SONNAVUBITCH!"

Riley and Steve rounded the corner just as a plasma burst exploded only yards behind them.

In the plaza in front of the New Age Curiosity Shop, Buffy, Giles, Angel, Cordelia, Anya and Kate all stood anxiously on the sidewalk. They stared up the street where, in the distance over the top of the mostly empty buildings, bright arcs of white light followed by bursts of red pierced the sky. Every few moments a loud whoom echoed from the distance and the ground shuddered. Smoke swept over the tops of the surrounding buildings as fires burning out of control advanced towards the center of Sunnydale. The scream of emergency vehicles and honking horns were barely audible as somewhere out of sight residents fled the fires now spreading outward from the warehouse section of the city.

Suddenly, around the corner at the end of the street, three figures ran wildly into view. Cordelia spotted them first.

"Buffy! Giles! Look!" she exclaimed, pointing into the darkness.

The figures quickly drew closer and everyone could see it was Xander, still clutching MacDuffie's sword, Willow and Tara.

"Xander . . . ?" Anya yelled uncertainly.

Now they were clearly recognizable. Willow was partly supported by Tara and Xander's face a mass of blood. He still firmly clutched the ancient sword in one hand.

"XANDER!" Anya screamed.

The ex-demon broke into a run towards the approaching three, followed by Buffy, Giles and the others. Xander stumbled into her arms.

"Man! Am I glad to see you guys!" he stammered.

"Oh my God! Xander! Are you all right!?" Anya hugged him ferociously.

"Easy, Anya!" Buffy said trying to calm her down, "Probably looks a lot worse than it is."

"That bad, huh?" Xander asked Buffy.

"Giles! Gimme one of your handkerchiefs," Buffy called out without answering Xander.

Giles yanked a handkerchief out of his vest pocket and tossed it in her direction. Buffy grabbed it and quickly staunched the flow of blood oozing down Xander's forehead.

"Yeah, it's just a small cut," Buffy said reassuringly, "They always bleed like hell from the head. I know. I've had my share."

Willow, her arm draped over Tara's shoulder, staggered up to Giles. She stared at him with a blank expression on her face. Giles slipped his arm under one of Willow's shoulders, helping Tara support her.

"Willow? Are you all right? What happened?" he asked gently, "Where's MacDuffie?"

Willow didn't answer. Rather her chest heaved with sobs.

". . . Willow . . . where's Anson? . . ." Giles asked, now his question more urgent.

Willow collapsed weeping in Tara's arms. Tara shook her head silently at Giles.

"Quickly, get her inside," he told Tara, realizing that Willow was in no emotional condition to describe the events in detail as he desperately needed. Giles instead turned to Xander. "What happened?" he asked.

Tara led Willow towards the door of the shop.

"We were goners," Xander stammered, shaking his head as Buffy compressed the handkerchief on his forehead, "About to get fried and MacDuff came outta nowhere. He got between us and . . . He stopped it for a few minutes . . . "

Xander grinned sadly as he paused, staring at Buffy and Giles who hung on his every word.

"Really got it pissed off, too . . . " he continued, "But he didn't make it. Riley showed up with a bunch of his troops and gave us some cover to get back here."

Buffy's eyes lit up at the mention of Riley's name.

"Buff, I think you better know . . . " Xander said picking up on Buffy's concern, "I'm . . . I'm pretty sure the Initiative got blown away. There's maybe only a couple dozen of 'em now. Riley's trying to hold it off about five, six blocks from here but we don't have much time. Whatever it is you gotta do, you gotta do it now!"

Buffy turned to Giles seeking some kind of direction. Giles stared back and spoke with as much confident strength as he can muster.

"Then it's finally time. Come on!" he said firmly.

He and Buffy abruptly left Xander with Anya and walked at a fast clip back into the shop. Xander faced Anya.

"Hey, babe!" he said optimistically now that the cut on his face had stopped bleeding, "You still got my light show all hooked up?"

"Yeah, but we got no power!" she answered despairing.

"Oh yes we do!" Xander snapped back with a grin, "You know that little five finger discount job we pulled at the construction site this morning?"

"Yeah?"

"You sexy little demon," Xander said, wrapping his arms around her in strong embrace, "That's our power. It's a generator! We're back!"

Anya's eyes lit up.

"Then maybe it won't be the end of all sex and the world!" she beamed.

"Not if I can help it! Let's fire that sucker up!"

Xander, still holding the handkerchief to his forehead, ran back into the shop followed by Anya leaving Angel, Kate and Cordelia standing alone on the pavement and staring nervously at the ever intensifying flashes of red light.

"That's what I love about reunions," Cordelia remarked sarcastically to Angel, "Makes you feel like you're part of the old gang again!"

"Cordelia . . ."

"Angel, what the hell are we supposed to do?!" she cut him off, her voice laced with fear, "Twiddle our thumbs and wait to get barbecued!?"

"She's right," Kate said solemnly.

The LAPD detective pulled her service revolver out of the shoulder holster under her jacket. She calmly inspected the weapon and then released the safety and cocked the chamber with a loud metallic snap.

"Angel, I just can't stand around here and do nothing," Kate announced.

"Then what do you suggest?" the vampire replied, now visibly annoyed.

Cordelia sighed with disgust as another argument was about to break out between Angel and Kate. She turned away, and her eyes fell on the used camera store next door. As she gazed at the dozens of cameras on display in the window, her eyes widened with a Cordelia style brainstorm. Grinning smugly, she elbowed Angel.

". . . Hey . . ."

"Maybe you can pop it a couple of times with your little pea shooter and give it an itch," Angel answered Kate sarcastically, ignoring Cordelia.

"Oh yeah?" Kate took up the verbal challenge as she tossed her long blond hair off her shoulders, "Well wadda you got to show for your afternoon jaunt in the sewers besides a little Eau de Toilet? We can light that old book you found on fire! That should keep it about four inches away from us! . . . for maybe three seconds!"

"HEY!" Cordelia jabbed Angel harder.

"What is it, Cordelia!?" he snapped.

Grinning like the Cheshire Cat, she nodded in the direction of the camera store. For a second, Angel and Kate were silent.

". . . and you wanta take its picture??" Kate finally answered with raised eyebrows.

"Sort of . . ." Cordelia grinned.

Pantomiming, she held up an imaginary camera and pointed it at Angel and Kate.

"Now snuggle close and smile you two!" she said.

Both Angel and Kate stared incredulously at Cordelia.

"Leggs, have you flipped?" the police detective asked.

Cordelia ignored the insult. She pretended to press the shutter trigger.

"Click!"

Then she imitated a camera flash going off by waving her fingers out from her face.

"POP!"

For a second, no one moved. Then, as the rumble of thunder up the street grew louder, Angel suddenly realized what she was trying to say.

"Wait a minute . . . !" he pondered.

He stared at the window of the camera store, then quickly ran over and studied the dozens of cameras on display. Cordelia and Kate joined him. Angel finally turned back to the two women. Smiling, he hugged Cordelia who grinned at Kate and winked.

"Cordelia! You never cease to amaze me!" he exclaimed as he released her from his embrace.

"That's okay, boss. Now about that raise . . ."

"Later."

"Oh yeah! Right!" Cordelia huffed.

Angel turned and faced the camera shop. Suddenly, he placed a solid kick against the display window which shook for a moment in its framing. It then shattered and descended to the sidewalk in a sliding crash of glass fragments. Angel jumped into the now open display area and began passing out camera after camera to Kate and Cordelia.

The LAPD detective was completely bewildered as she joined Cordelia grabbing cameras from Angel.

"Great! Now you got me _looting_!" she exclaimed.

Inside the New Age Curiosity Shop, Anya twisted the dials on the floodlight control panel. Next to her, Xander gently set the notched sword into a corner out of the way. 

"You've done your part," he thought of the damaged weapon as he quickly but reverently wrapped it in a piece of loose cloth. Not wasting any time, he then turned to the motor on the stolen generator and struggled to start up the stubborn engine. He fiddled with the choke, reset the throttle and then yanked on the starter pull rope. The generator engine turned but wouldn't catch. He yanked again and again with the same dismal results.

". . . Damn . . . come on . . . start . . . you bastard!" he swore as he pulled repeatedly.

Across the shop, near Faith's cot, Tara and Willow sat together, Willow still sobbing.

"Willow, listen to me!" Tara finally said firmly, "You have to get your act together! . . . I found the spell . . ."

Willow stopped whimpering and looked up surprised at Tara.

"We can open the Void before the planetary conjunction!" Tara exclaimed with excitement, "It'll catch the Ancient Ones off guard! Buffy can go in and seal them up for good . . . but we've gotta move fast!"

"How do you know it's the right spell?" Willow muttered as she wiped her eyes and cheek on her sleeve, "I thought no one could read the Res Profana?"

"That was the weird thing," Tara answered thoughtfully, "Somebody wrote a message a long time ago in the front of the book . . . but it was addressed to me . . . telling me which spell to use!"

"But who?" Willow puzzled.

"It was signed 'Randolph Carter' but I could tell that wasn't his real name. The Curator mentioned something about somebody named 'Lovecraft' who knew I was coming."

"I've heard of him!" Willow exclaimed, her eyes widening, "He was that horror writer in the 1930's!"

Tara nodded.

"Yeah, that's right! He wrote about the Ancient Ones, but nobody took him seriously. I knew that name was familiar. He called himself "Randolph Carter" in his stories! Remember! MacDuffie said there was a Guardian in the 1930's who defeated the Ancient Ones during the last conjunction?"

"It was after the Leipzig Massacre when the Powers of Darkness killed off almost all the Slayers around the world!" Willow answered as she struggled to remember, "Mr. MacDuffie said his father knew him but wouldn't say who he was, only that he single handedly held off the Ancient Ones for almost ten years while new Slayers were trained. He and a friend stopped the crossover of the Ancient Ones in the last conjunction. . . . But it cost them their lives."

"I think . . . it _was_ Mr. Lovecraft . . . _he_ showed me the spell . . ." Tara nodded.

"But we destroyed the book?" Willow suddenly said, despairing.

Tara grinned and pointed with her finger to the side of her forehead indicating she had it memorized. That's all it took. Willow was suddenly re-vitalized.

"We have to help Buffy! Teach it too me!" she announced intensely.

"I'll write it down," Tara said, now sharing her friends returning enthusiasm, "It can't be spoken outloud . . . until the moment we need it."

Willow nodded in agreement.

A few feet away, Faith lay still on the cot. Her blood red eyes were wide open as she listened intently to everything Willow and Tara were saying. Understanding, she breathed in deeply and closed her eyes to wait.

Inside the shop's storage room, Buffy and Giles stood before the box containing the Shining Trapezohedron.

"Once we remove it from its box," Giles said with quiet finality, ". . . the Haunter will come for it."

Buffy shook her head.

"It already knows it's here. . . . " she said coldly, "It's just playing with us."

There was a moment of silence. Outside, flashes of red and white light illuminated the windows of the shop as Riley's forces fell back closer and closer.

"Giles," Buffy asked fearfully, "I still don't understand what I have to do."

Giles put his hands on Buffy's shoulders. He struggled with the urge to hold her close, knowing in his heart that this could be the last time he explained to her the circumstances of a threat they were all facing together. His soul agonized with the knowledge that he was sending his slayer, no, this beautiful powerful young woman who was his daughter in all but name into a battle from which they both realized she would never return.

"Buffy," he began slowly, "In this universe, our souls, our life force and are bodies are all strongly interlocked. But going into the Void, we leave behind our physical form and carry in only the soul and life force. The Ancient Ones are attempting to drag their physical manifestation from their universe, through the Void, and into ours where they once held sway. You are to leave your body behind here and enter the Void with your soul and the Crystal. There, you will direct your life powers back upon the Shining Trapezoderon, and, much like closing a very stiff old window, seal the portal up. You will then destroy the Trapezohedron."

". . . sealing me up in the Void! . . ." Buffy announced bluntly.

Suddenly Willow and Tara appeared at the door to the storage room.

"No! . . . we'll get you out!" Willow exclaimed.

Buffy and Giles turned to face the young Wiccans as they stepped into the room.

"I've read the Res Profana," Tara said confidently to Giles, "We know its spells and powers. Willow and I can help open the Void, but more importantly, Buffy, we can help you shut it as well . . ."

"By destroying the Crystal _on this side_!" Willow announced, completing Tara's explanation. She quickly turned to Giles, "The physical manifestation of the Trapezohedron remains behind here . . . but its energy, its 'life force' passes through to the Void with Buffy."

Willow faced the Slayer as she spoke with excitement, "Just before the Void closes, you leap back through. Tara and I will finish the closure here with the spell from the Res Profana and then we'll smash the Shining Trapezohedron!"

"Thus making it incomplete!" Giles nodded with building enthusiasm, "It's powers will be sealed in the void and unable to be used to cross into this universe since its physical manifestation no longer exists! Gads, I think you've got it!"

"You guys think this'll really work?" Buffy, her voice for the first time filled with hope, glanced back and forth between Willow and Tara.

Tara nodded enthusiastically. Taking her cue from Tara, Willow grinned her trademark smile.

"Yeah! No sweat!," she announced as she looked back at Tara, "We got it on good authority!"

"Then, we must begin now!" Giles announced urgently, "The planetary conjunction reaches it zenith at 2 am. By that time, the power of the Ancient Ones will be virtually irresistible."

"I wouldn't exactly put it _that_ way," Willow scowled at the Watcher's odd choice of words.

"What way?" Giles asked confused.

". . . 'irresistible' . . ." Willow said with raised eyebrows.

"It's a perfectly good word," Giles huffed as if they were back sitting in the storage room with MacDuffie's bottle of scotch.

"Not now, Giles," Willow grinned and rolled her eyes.

"Quite right! Buffy . . ."

Buffy turned slowly to face the box containing the Shining Trapezohedron. She slid the lid off and the room was instantly bathed in an eery glow from the Trapezohedron's other worldly illumination. Buffy reached in and lifted the multi-faceted crystalline shape out of its bed of old excelsium. As she held it in front of her, all gazed at the source of the unearthly light.

Outside the storage room, Faith, who had overheard the entire conversation, lay still on the cot and stared at the ceiling.

"So . . . that's the game," she muttered to herself, "Red, after this is over I just hope you and your blondie buddy can get me outta there."

Suddenly, the bizarre colors of the Shining Trapezohedron poured through the open door to the storage room. In spite of herself, Faith suddenly turned her head sideways and gazed at the startling colors now bathing the corner of the shop.

Several blocks away on the streets of downtown Sunnydale, flames leaped up everywhere as the Haunter of the Dark glided down between the buildings. The three lobed eye on the end of its serpent neck bent and pointed in different directions firing globes of blazing plasma at the squads of retreating Initiative soldiers. Every so often, the lightning stab of alpha particle bursts leaped from strategic locations where Initiative soldiers laid down a cross fire or an ambush.

Riley waved wildly at different groups of his men, signaling them to retreat. He screamed into his headset.

"BETA SQUAD! FALL BACK ONE BLOCK NOW! GAMMA SQUAD, LAY DOWN COVER FIRE!"

Behind him, camouflaged soldiers raced by heading down the street towards the shop.

". . . come on, Buffy! . . ." Riley muttered desperately through gritted teeth into his headset, "Whatever it is, you gotta do it now!"

Riley turned and broke into a sprint with plasma bursts dropping on all sides of him. Nyarlethotep suddenly halted and lifted its neck up towards the sky as if it sensed something in the wind.

Inside the shop, Buffy, followed by Willow, Tara and Giles marched out of the storage room. Buffy, staring sternly ahead, carried the Shining Trapezohedron in front of her. It's glow illuminated the walls in a wash of colors from an unknown spectrum. All four paraded quickly out the front door into the street.

After a moment, Faith slowly sat up from her cot. She stood, looked around and stealthily followed the others. She stopped momentarily by Xander who, still tugging at the pull cord on the generator, was unaware of her presence. Anya suddenly looked up from her control panel and gasped.

"What?" Xander said in irritation as he glanced up at Anya.

Following Anya's gaze, he looked behind his shoulder and saw Faith. The impact of her presence didn't sink in.

"Oh, hi Faith . . ." he said nonchalantly.

Xander's attention returned to starting the stubborn generator as he jerked furiously on the starter cord.

". . . Hey . . ." Faith grinned at him.

". . . what? . . ." Xander stared back up at her, a little annoyed at being interrupted.

"Easy, lover boy . . ." she instructed him almost seductively, "You're too rough. Ya flooded 'er . . . half choke it . . . pull gently, slowly . . . nice smooth strokes . . . then she'll rev. Trust me."

Xander fiddled with the choke again and then, using a strong, steady and firm grip, pulled the starter cord with a smooth motion. The engine immediately sprang alive, the roar ringing in the shop.

"Wow! Gee, thanks Faith!" Xander exclaimed over the noise of the generator.

Xander looked back up but Faith was gone. The door to the front of the shop slammed shut. Xander glanced over at Anya who was still staring back at him but with a look of fury on her face.

"What the hell's wrong, now?" Xander moaned.

Anya reached over and swatted him hard across the head.

"OW!"

"Open the damn windows before the exhaust suffocates us!" she snarled, "I don't wanta die just yet . . . cause I hafta kill you first!"

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Go To Part 26 


	26. Through the glass darkly

**The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind**

**Chapter 26  
"Through the glass darkly"**

by Gaius Petronius

Disclaimer:  
Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB and Mutant Enemy, Inc. This story can be read on its own or as a sequel to H. P. Lovecraft's "The Haunter of the Dark" from which the Ancient Ones, the Shining Trapezohedron and the character of Robert Blake are derived.

**Content Note:** This part is rated PG-13 for violence and some raunchy language.

On the street in front of the New Age Curiosity Shop, the winds rose steadily. Beyond the open square and hidden by the surrounding buildings, white lightning like flashes and answering bursts of red plasma lit up the sky. Next door at the camera store, Kate and Cordelia piled up a mound of over twenty cameras. Angel kept passing more out through the smashed display window.

"There's a whole storeroom of 'em back here! How many you want, Cordelia?" he called out from inside the store, his voice laced with sarcasm

"As many as they got!" she shouted back, ignoring his tone, ". . . as long as they have a working flash!"

Finally understanding, Kate stared with admiration at Cordelia as she stacked the cameras on the sidewalk.

"You are one crafty bitch!" the LAPD detective nodded.

"Hey, not just anyone can work with Angel," Cordelia grinned back, "Ya gotta be good, honey!"

Kate cast Cordelia a momentary glare and Cordelia smiled smugly as if she were reveling in every second of Kate's discomfort. Suddenly, Angel, with two cameras slung over his shoulders and three in his arms, leaped out of the broken display window.

"All right, Cordelia, what's the plan?" he asked as he tumbled the last cameras into the pile, "We got forty-five, maybe fifty flashes here and like three of us?"

All at once, from up the street, camouflaged Initiative soldiers began streaming out of the intersections towards the shop. They ran in full retreat, hugging the walls of the buildings and factories lining the avenue. From among the crowd of roughly two dozen soldiers, five bearing alpha particle rifles broke off and took up concealed ambush positions among the buildings on both sides of the street. Waving frantically, Riley signaled to this group and then joined them. He hovered, concealed just inside a brick building's front entrance. Graham and Forrest lead the rest of the unarmed soldiers in a sprint up to the sidewalk in front of the camera store.

At the same time, Buffy, Giles, Willow and Tara burst out the front door of MacDuffie's shop and stopped in the middle of the pavement. Faith followed seconds later but held back, flattening herself against the wall of the shop.

Buffy, carrying the Shining Trapezohedron, nervously surveyed the growing chaos all around her. Fires burned out of control beyond the corner from where the Initiative soldiers had fled but the Haunter of the Dark was nowhere to be seen.

"What the hell is going on out here?" the Slayer asked Giles, but her question was just as much a statement of reality. Giles sensed the tension building in her voice and placed his hand reassuringly on her shoulder.

Forrest, Graham and their troops reached Angel, Cordelia and Kate in front of the camera store.

"Any weapons here?!" Forrest yelled in desperation to the vampire.

"What happened to yours?!"

"We had to ditch 'em," the Initiative Squad leader shouted over the rising din, "Drained! Only had four, maybe five shots each at best!"

"Over here!!" Cordelia called out, indicating the pile of cameras, "Everybody grab two or three of these!!"

"What???" Graham exclaimed.

"Do as she says!!" Angel yelled in order to be heard over the intensifying wind, "It can't stand light! We'll fire the flashes in a volley! It'll buy us more time!"

Graham looked skeptically at Forrest.

"You heard the orders! Assist the civs!" Forrest said as his face betrayed the faintest trace of a grin.

"Yeah, but her?!" Graham snapped back, waving his hand at the tall, brunette ex-cheerleader.

"Ya took orders from Maggie!"

"Shit yeah! And look where the hell that got us!"

"You got a better suggestion?!" Forrest yelled.

Without answering, Graham grabbed up three cameras. The other soldiers, in a rush, immediately followed suit.

"Make sure the flashes are all charging!" Cordelia shouted as she passed out the cameras to the eager hands around her.

Kate and Angel joined the soldiers in scooping up the cameras from the pile on the sidewalk. At the same time, Angel glanced nervously around searching for any trace of the Haunter of the Dark

"Where the hell is it?!" he yelled at Forrest

Forrest stared up the street to where Riley and his men were concealed.

"Damned if I know! It was right on our ass last I saw!"

Buffy looked desperately at Willow and Tara. At the same time, Tara's eyes met Willow's and both turned to Giles.

"We're going to start the spell to open the void!" she said with conviction.

Tara nodded in agreement.

"You ready?" Willow asked her partner.

Again, Tara only nodded, but this time she smiled, her expression carrying unspoken feelings. Immediately, the two joined hands, closed their eyes and turned their faces skyward. Their voices suddenly rang out through the swirling chaos on the street.

"Hra, Krahtar, di meygo ylime grestis Erah Shagghai . . ." the two Wiccan's voices cried out in unison.

At the same time, Cordelia, now having virtually taken over control of the Initiative soldiers, broke the squads up into two groups.

"Okay! You guys take your position over there!" she shouted, directing the milling squad to a spot on the edge of the camera store, "Group two, you set up there by the dumpster." The second squad uncertainly eyed the position indicated on the edge of the alley beside the shop.

The men glanced at Forrest and Graham for confirmation. They in turn, eyebrows raised, looked at Angel. Grinning sheepishly, Angel only shrugged his shoulders.

Forrest was the first to give in.

"You got your orders!" he shouted at the squads, "Take positions!"

The men separated, the first group lining up on the corner at the far end of the camera shop, the other huddled around the dumpster at the entrance to the alley as if it were some form of cover.

"Remember to all fire at once!" Cordelia barked out orders like a tall, gorgeous, but no nonsense staff Sargent "Only shoot half your cameras to give the others time to recharge!"

At the same time, Willow and Tara's chanting built with nerve wracking intensity.

"Hra, Krahtar, di meygo ylime grestis Erah Yggatha!" Their voices now pierced the noise of the winds enveloping the street.

"Damn! Where the hell is it?!" Angel screamed as he stared wildly around him.

"Hey, Angel, maybe it's invisible, too!" Kate answered him.

"That's not funny, Kate!"

"It wasn't supposed to be!"

Angel shuddered at her suggestion.

Inside the shop, the motor for the generator roared in Xander and Anya's ears. Anya, still hunched over the controls, began breathing heavily. Her face clenched up and her hands started shaking.

"What's wrong?!" Xander exclaimed, seeing her distress.

She didn't answer but looked all around the shop, her face blanketed with fear.

"Anya, this is not the time to be pissed at me!"

"It's coming, Xander!" she shouted, ignoring his complaint, "It's coming!"

"Where?! WHERE?!" he yelled back.

Suddenly, Anya stared directly overhead at the ceiling of the shop.

"OH GODS!" she screamed.

"SHIT! THE SKY!" Xander cried out.

Quickly, in a reflex motion, he reached across from the generator to Anya's control panel and slammed on the switch that governed the bank of lights pointed skywards.

In the sky directly over the shop, the barrel rolling crimson clouds suddenly parted as the Haunter of the Dark soared down upon the crowd of people in the street. It's screech caused the buildings to tremble and the wind whipped all around the defenders.

In that instant, Buffy, Giles, and all the Initiative soldiers froze in surprise and horror as Nyarlethotep displayed itself in its full manifestation. Only Willow and Tara continued their chant, undisturbed by the doom descending on their heads.

"HRA, KRAHTAR, DI MEYGO NYBOR GRESTIS ACTIB RYLETH!"

Talons outstretched, the Haunter was within yards of snatching Buffy and the Shining Trapezohedron from off the ground when Xander's bank of floods, like the beacon of the Pharos, burst alive piercing the smothering red mists that surrounded the Preparer of the Way. The tone of the Haunter suddenly changed from a scream of victory to a howl of dismay as it beat its wings and circled trying to dodge the stinging white light. Finally it landed in the street, a block away from the shop, clearly visible and just beyond where Riley and his five other squad members were concealed.

". . . why didn't it roast us? . . ." Kate asked as her voice trembled and her eyes widened in horror.

"It needs Buffy and the Trapezohedron," Angel explained as coolly as he could, "Otherwise it and the Ancient Ones can't cross over."

Still hidden against the front wall of the shop, Faith glared at the Haunter as it lurched up the street towards Buffy.

"Come and get it, you bastard!" she whispered to herself and grinned, "You're gonna pay for this big time!"

The Haunter of the Dark moved deliberately up the street, it's swaying red body and webbed wings stirring up the air, but the three lobed eye on the end of the serpent neck appeared to glide forward as if it were supported by its own sea of poisonous mist from the blasted home world of the Ancient Ones.

Nyarlethotep passed the concealed forms of Riley and the armed soldiers as it advanced on Buffy who stood unmoving, the other worldly colors of the Shining Trapezohedron shooting out from the Crystal clasped in her arms.

Xander had scrambled to the front window and stared out at the approaching nightmare. He turned and shouted back to Anya over the roar of the generator.

"That sucker's too close! Juice it with the front lights!"

With exaggerated force, Anya slammed on another switch on her control panel.

The bank of floodlights trained down the street in front of the shop snapped on blanketing the intersection and the surrounding buildings in a bath of white light. The Ancient One screamed again and quickly slithered back the way it came until it lingered on the edge of the beams of the floods. Unfazed, Willow and Tara chanted continuously.

"HRA, KRAHTAR, DI MEYGO NYBOR GRESTIS ACTIB KADETH . . .!"

Suddenly a shimmering appeared in the air less than twenty feet in front of Buffy, Willow and Tara. It was faint at first but rapidly grew in size and intensity as if the fabric of this world's three dimensions were bending and stretching to a point where they would burst, opening a floodgate into the Void and beyond.

At the same time, Forrest yelled into his headset to Graham and Riley.

"Riley! Graham! You guys hear me?!"

"I got you Forrest!" Riley yelled into his headset as he crouched by a building entrance. From his vantage, he could clearly see the back of the Haunter looming up and its giant forked tail whisking back and forth in the street knocking over everything in its path.

"Loud and clear here!" Graham answered from beside the dumpster.

"Riley," Forrest said firmly, "We're gonna drive it back with a bunch of camera flash guns we got here 'til it's between you guys! Then you goose it good with the alpha packs!"

"Understood! When we overload the rifles, everybody hit the pavement!" Riley answered, his voice shouting to be heard over the winds, but supremely calm. He wasn't afraid now. This was it, he thought as he began fiddling with his rifle's controls. The last stand . . . for Buffy.

Although he could barely make out her diminutive figure almost a block away in the glare of the floodlights, he imagined, in this final moment, she was standing at his side. When those rifles flew, she would be dropping to the street next to him. He would hold her close, protect her, her soft body pressed up against his . . . and it would be over. And then they would have forever.

"You got it!" Forrest screamed over the headset and his piercing voice snapped Riley out of his reverie. "When I yell to get down, everybody drop and cover your eyes!" Forrest shouted at the group around him.

Buffy, Giles and the rest of the Scooby gang looked at each other in confusion.

"Do what he says!" Angel yelled at them.

"Squads!" Forrest ordered the assembled Initiative soldiers, "Advance ten yards, crouch and fire on my mark! Move!"

The two squads from the corner of the camera shop and by the dumpster suddenly advanced on either side of the street towards the Haunter. In a moment, all dropped to their knees together and took aim with over twenty cameras.

"Say cheese!" Graham sniggered.

"FIRE!" Forrest shouted.

Two dozen camera flashes, all pointed at the Haunter, went off as one. The brilliant flare caught the Ancient One totally unawares. It lurched, stunned, and slithered back towards Riley's men waiting in ambush.

"Squads! Advance ten yards and fire on my mark!"

Like a bizarre pack of papparazi getting the first pictures of Hell, the two groups of soldiers ran forward once more. Again, they all halted together, dropped to their knees and took aim. The eye of the Haunter swayed on the end of its neck and was about to release a blast of plasma when Forrest screamed again.

"FIRE!"

Two dozen flashes burst with light in an instant. The Haunter bellowed in fury and lurched backwards again until it was now squarely in the middle of Riley's ambush.

"Shit, I'll bet all mine have red eye!" Graham smirked.

"Armed Squad! Set to overload!" Riley shouted into his headset.

Riley fiddled with his rifle, yanked the wires from his pack and gave the order.

"Rifles away! ALL PERSONNEL, TAKE COVER!"

Riley and the other ambush soldiers tossed their rifles at Nyarlethotep.

"EVERYBODY GET DOWN!" Forrest screamed at his men and the Scooby Gang back at the shop, "COVER YOUR EYES!"

Willow and Tara remained unmoving, absorbed in their chant. Buffy and Giles grabbed them both and threw them to the pavement. Angel swept both Cordelia and Kate in his arms and pushed them down onto the sidewalk as he tried to shelter them with his outstretched arms. Like a field of wheat flattened in a hurricane wind, the Initiative solders all dropped where they stood. Riley's men dove into the surrounding buildings seeking cover.

The six rifles, now emitting the distinctive high pitched dual tone, clattered noisily as they slid and skidded across the pavement and stopped at an evenly divided distance from the Ancient One. For a second, the three lobed eye of the Haunter regarded the little weapons with puzzlement.

Then the entire street whited out as the six rifles exploded on overload. In an instant, all color vanished as the brilliant white light of the six blasts overwhelmed every wavelength of the visible spectrum. At the same time, there was a series of loud electrical pops followed by a concussion that made the ground and buildings tremble. The Haunter screamed as it's physical manifestation dematerialized and swept away in the wind. All was white everywhere for a few moments more, then, quickly color returned.

Overhead, the clouds still barrel rolled over the shop and up and down the streets, the buildings and structures not set ablaze by the alpha particle explosion were bathed in a lurid bloody red color from both the dark crimson sky and the fires burning nearer the center of Sunnydale.

". . . Riley . . . Riley!" Forrest shouted looking up from the pavement, "You did it, man! You fried it!"

Up and down the street, heads popped up as soldiers and the Scooby Gang quickly got to their feet. Buffy looked around, bewildered. She cast a questioning glance at Giles.

"Did they do it?" she asked hopefully, "Did Riley stop it?"

". . . no! . . ." Tara exclaimed looking up, frightened, "The light only drove it back into the Void for a few minutes. It bought us time."

Tara stared at the shimmering puncture in the fields of space and time that hovered in front of them.

"You have to go in . . ." she said to Buffy, "And fight it from there. When the rupture is almost closed, jump back through and Willow and I will finish closing here. Then we'll smash the Trapezohedron."

Buffy nodded and turned to advance towards the widening opening. Suddenly, from out of nowhere, Faith appeared standing right behind her and tapped Buffy on the shoulder.

"Hey, 'B.'"

Buffy turned and stared in total shock at Faith. Pale, her pupils still bright red, she was unsteady on her feet, but her smirking grin spread from ear to ear as she placed her hands on her hips as if she were assuming all authority for what was about to occur.

"Gimme the Crystal. This is my job now," Faith announced calmly.

For a second, Buffy was speechless. Finally she collected her thoughts.

"Faith! How . . . ? But you're too weak. You're dying!"

"Yeah, I guess I do feel pretty shitty," Faith said, still grinning, "But you don't know what you're going up against. I do! I've fought these things! After what I did to you guys, hell, maybe if it doesn't work out . . ."

Faith paused and nodded at the now towering opening into the Void as she spoke, "Through there is where I really belong anyway! Hell, I spent the last six months there!"

"NO!" Buffy cried out.

"Buffy, even your old Scottie Boy there said I was the one, not you," Faith argued reasonably as she turned to Willow, "Am I wrong, Red?"

For a second, Willow said nothing, her face bathed in doubt.

". . . MacDuffie's last words . . . were 'get back to the shop . . . and help Faith!'" Willow muttered.

Faith reached out and placed her hand on the Shining Trapezohedron cradled in Buffy's arms.

"See, my job!" Faith answered with finality, "No time to talk, 'B.'"

Faith suddenly drew her other fist back and landed a punch square on the side of Buffy's face just below the eye. Stunned, Buffy staggered back into Giles' arms, at the same time releasing her hold on the Crystal as Faith snatched it away.

"There, that's settled," Faith grinned for the last time, "No bitchin' and moanin'. I hate long goodbyes."

Faith spun on her heels and strode in the direction of the shimmering rupture opening into the Void. As she stepped into the opening, a vibration disrupted the surface of the field drawing a bright yellow light out of her body and a wisp of the bizarre colors from the Shining Trapezohedron. In a second, Faith's body, now devoid of its living soul, dropped to the street as her black hair spilled out across the pavement. She lay there, unmoving, the only sign of life her slow almost imperceptible breathing. The Trapezohedron rolled out of her arms. It, too, was lifeless, all signs of light and the unearthly color now vanished into the Void.

". . . NO! . . ." Buffy screamed in both despair and fury.

She struggled out of Giles' arms and dashed after Faith. As she struck the rupture into the Void, the same bright yellow light surged out of her body, and she toppled forward onto her face on the pavement. There, the two Slayers lay motionless side by side as all around, the flames spread from building to building.

* * * * * * * * * *

Go To Chapter 27 


	27. and when she falls as she is fated to do

**The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind**

**Chapter 27  
"and when she falls, as she is fated to do . . ."**

by Gaius Petronius

Disclaimer:  
Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB and Mutant Enemy, Inc. This story can be read on its own or as a sequel to H. P. Lovecraft's "The Haunter of the Dark" from which the Ancient Ones, the Shining Trapezohedron and the character of Robert Blake are derived.

**Content Note:** This part is rated PG-13 for violence and some raunchy language.

Buffy suddenly opened her eyes and stared wildly around her. She was disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings, her head dizzy and her ears ringing. Shaking her head, she struggled to understand where she was.

All she could see was the base of a massive gray wall looming up behind her. The giant dark stones stretched off out of sight to her left, right and above reaching far beyond the shortened range of her vision. The wall itself was bathed in a crimson light and all around a red vapor hung as if it were clinging to the rough irregular surface of the stones.

A portion of the wall closest to her shimmered as did the portal that Willow and Tara had opened in the street just moments before in front of the New Age Curiosity Shop. Buffy spun from side to side, trying to maintain her balance and at the same time searching for any sign of Faith.

"Faith! FAITH!" Buffy cried out.

Faith, still holding the Shining Trapezohedron, suddenly stepped out of the red mist.

"Geez, chill, 'B'! I'm right beside you," she said calmly.

The Trapezohedron glowed steadily in Faith's arms.

"What the hell'd you follow me for, you ditz?" Faith lectured Buffy, "I told you I had this thing under control."

"I'm supposed to let you face the Haunter by yourself?" Buffy argued back, panting as she stared at the all encompassing wall around them, "What the hell is this place?" Buffy shivered.

". . . home . . ." Faith answered quietly as if from beyond a wall of dreams.

"What!?"

The two slayers stared at each other.

"It's where I've been for the last six months," Faith answered flatly, "I could hear you . . . everything you said."

Faith nodded towards the looming stones, "And every once in a while, I was strong enough to make that thing open . . . but this may be the last time . . . I'm so freakin' tired, Buffy."

"Faith! We're doing this together!" Buffy exclaimed.

"Sure thing, Miss Goody Two Shoes."

"The life force of _two slayers_, think of it!" Buffy shouted as she rapidly began to lose patience with Faith's fatalistic attitude, "We're _both_ getting outta here!"

For a moment, Faith stared at Buffy, not sure she understood what Buffy was saying. Then, for the first time, the faintest hint of hope sparkled from Faith's eyes. Suddenly, a slithering sound and the vibrations of heavy breathing drifted out of the mists in front of them. Both turned on the defensive and faced the spot where the sounds were emanating.

"This is it!" Faith exclaimed as she prepared to do battle, "We'll see if two are better than one!"

Without warning, the three lobed burning eye of Nyarlethotep lurched out of the red vapor at Faith and shot towards the Shining Trapezohedron. Instantaneously, Faith swung her foot up in a violent kick at the advancing menace. The connection was solid and the eye suspended on the end of its serpentine neck spun away with the force of the impact.

Recovering, the eye of the Haunter leaped again, this time at Buffy. Using the same maneuver as Faith, Buffy planted a spinning kick squarely against the soft tissue dividing the three lobes of the eye. Once more, Nyarlethotep recoiled and hovered on the edge of the mist. One of the lobes was now ruptured and oozed a green liquid.

"Good shot!" Faith yelled, "But watch out! It's got one little trick that . . ."

Suddenly the form of the Haunter converted to a cloud of vapor, thicker than the red mists all around the Slayers. That cloud shot forward in a red stream directly at Buffy. Only a millisecond before impact, Faith stepped in front of the vaporized form of the Haunter. The red vapor spattered off Faith's chest like water hosed against a plastic tarpaulin.

"What the . . . ?" Buffy exclaimed.

"It pulled that shit on me!" Faith answered as she staggered momentarily from the impact, "Caught me off guard! It gets inside you and manipulates your body. Come on, we've screwed around here enough! Let's close that gate!"

"But how?"

"Use your mind!" Faith grinned, pointing at her own forehead, "After all, that's where we are!"

Buffy stared, uncomprehending, at Faith.

"Our own unconscious, Buffy," Faith exclaimed as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, ". . . the Void . . . that place . . . on the brink of our own deaths."

Buffy shuddered in horror but she restrained the urge to panic. At the same time, Faith coolly turned and glared at the Shining Trapezohedron. Marshaling all her strength, Buffy did the same. Both Slayers stared intently back and forth between the Crystal and the shimmering portion of the wall. Suddenly, the size of the rupture began slowly to shrink.

On the street in front of MacDuffie's shop, the Scooby Gang and several of the Initiative soldiers were gathered around the prostrate forms of Faith and Buffy. Suddenly Tara pointed at the fluctuating opening in front of them.

"Willow!" she shouted, "Look! It's shrinking!"

"They're closing it!" Willow exclaimed as she realized the size of the portal was decreasing, "Buffy and Faith are closing the Void! Come on!"

Immediately she and Tara locked hands and resumed chanting. The words rang out through the winds as if the two Wiccans were offering their very souls for the rescue of the Slayers.

"HRA, KRAHTAR, DI MEYGO NYBOR GRESTIS ACTIB SHAGGAI!  
HRA, KRAHTAR, GAR ACTIB DERSASTAS GRANDNOR DZAB KADETH . . ."

In the Void, both Buffy and Faith glared intently at the Shining Trapezohedron in Faith's arms. Suddenly from out of the red mist surrounding them, the form of the Haunter lunged again at Faith. Sensing the impending attack, Buffy swung her foot up and violently connected a second time with the three lobed eye. Screaming, the serpent like neck spun backwards into the enshrouding mist.

"You're getting good at this," Faith said calmly, not taking her eyes off the Trapezohedron.

"I got a good teacher," Buffy answered, retraining her attention on the Crystal.

"'B', you're so full of bull shit," Faith smirked back.

Suddenly, the form of the Haunter reappeared on the edge of the vapors surrounding Buffy and Faith. It swayed back and forth as if looking for a weakness in the Slayers' defenses.

"We're running outta time!" Faith exclaimed, aware of the Haunter's growing power, "The opening is almost closed. We gotta turn it over to Willow and her bud out there. 'B,' look up at me and release it."

Buffy followed Faith's instructions and looked up at her. Both turned to stare at the shimmering rupture in the giant wall. The size of the opening suddenly stopped shrinking.

"It's not working!" Buffy exclaimed after a second, alarmed, "The Void isn't closing! It's not working, Faith!"

"They can't do it," Faith muttered as if she knew all along the final outcome, "Willow doesn't have enough strength. Only the life force of a Slayer . . ."

Faith stopped in mid sentence and stared at Buffy who, oblivious to what Faith had just said, still stared at the rupture in the Void.

In the street in front of the shop, Cordelia sensed the spell unraveling.

"Something's wrong!" she cried out, "Giles, something's wrong!"

Giles immediately recognized the rupture had ceased closing.

"Willow!" he yelled.

"We can't do it!" Tara screamed, beginning to panic, "Willow, we don't have the powers. It's not enough! We can't do it!"

"DON'T STOP!" Willow shouted, almost despairing.

Willow and Tara resumed chanting but the opening in the Void actually began to enlarge.

At the base of the wall, Faith stared at the menacing form of the Haunter of the Dark.

"It's not gonna work," she announced flatly, "We'll have to close it from in here. Better get outta here, 'B.'"

"I'm not leaving you!" Buffy declared and Faith could sense the other Slayer's feet settling firmly on the ground. Faith shook her head sadly.

"You don't belong here, Buffy."

"Neither do you!" Buffy yelled back defiantly.

"You really believe that," Faith smirked.

"Yes!"

"Well, there's only one way to settle this then," Faith said calmly as she carefully placed the Shining Trapezohedron down on the ground in front of her.

She then looked up calmly at Buffy and let a sudden punch fly. Her fist connected in the same place on Buffy's face where her first blow had landed earlier. Buffy staggered and struggled to launch a defensive kick in response, but Faith caught her foot in her hands and spun Buffy off balance. Before Buffy could regain her footing, Faith had a hammerlock around her neck and dragged Buffy to a standing position.

Both Slayers struggled and thrashed in front of the shimmering section of the gray wall. With all her strength, Faith finally shoved Buffy towards the rupture. As she did, Faith yelled out one last time.

"Sorry about that! You're gonna have one hell of a shiner, hun!"

Buffy vanished through the rupture in the Void, her body seeming to disappear into the shimmering section of the giant gray stones. Faith quickly snatched up the Crystal and stared into its glowing facets. Her face winced and creased with pain as it appeared her very life were draining out of her. Nevertheless, she would not take her eyes from the glowing nightmare images tunneling into her brain.

She fought back, every drop of her energy concentrated on mastering the glow of the Trapezohedron and directing its powers back against the fluctuating portal. At first nothing happened but suddenly as she expended one final burst of energy, the rupture in the Void rapidly began closing again and in a few seconds was sealed. The gray stones imprisoning her stood firm and unwavering once more.

On the street in front of the New Age Curiosity Shop, Buffy slowly regained consciousness. She lifted herself up on her hands off the pavement and looked around at the others staring at her. Giles reached down to lift her to her feet. At the same instant, Buffy recognized the unmoving form of Faith lying by her side.

"Faith! God Damn you, Faith!" she screamed, slapping away Giles' extended hand.

In the growing darkness of the Void, Faith, now virtually drained of any remaining strength, leaned with her back against the wall and slid down to her knees.

"Smash the Crystal, 'B!'" she cried out.

Buffy and those standing around her heard the other Slayer's voice ring out from beyond the now vanished portal.

"NO! I'm not sealing you up in there!" Buffy yelled back defiantly.

From out of the thin air around Buffy, Faith's voice echoed faintly.

"I'm already dead, Buffy. Smash it."

"NO!"

"Listen, you dumb Bitch!" Faith lashed out and everyone on the street now recognized the voice and its haughty defiant tone. "I don't belong out there! I tried to kill all you guys, remember. I'll do it again! Hey, I even fucked Angel! And it was real good!"

Buffy's eyes widened with horror. She began to shake.

"She's lying, Buffy!" Angel shouted.

But Buffy didn't hear him. She only could hear Faith's words, and the fury rose in her.

"Yeah, Dead Boy there, you had some pretty kinky moves," Faith continued in her smirky chatty tone of voice, "But ya know what? That new guy of yours, 'B', what's his name, Riley? Big and blonde, he's kinda cute. He'd be fun to do a little roll with!"

Furious, Buffy rose to her knees in front of the Shining Trapezohedron and clenched her hands together in a fist. Buffy's sudden silence told Faith exactly what she wanted to hear.

"Yeah, I think that's the first thing I'll do when I get back," she grinned, leaning from her kneeling position against the wall as the last of her life force drifted away, "A little 'Uuhh!' with Farm Boy there!"

All the Scooby Gang stared in horror as Buffy raised her clenched fists high over her head.

"Smash it, Buffy!" Faith whispered with her last drop of strength, "End this thing between us! You win!"

Buffy let her fists drop with all her Slayer's force. The Shining Trapezohedron shattered on impact, bursting into hundreds of sharp fragments, slashing and cutting Buffy's hands. Immediately, her blood rushed from the wounds.

In the darkness of the Void, Faith lowered her head, closed her blood red eyes and sighed. It was done. The bizarre spectrum of color from the Shining Trapezohedron in her arms suddenly winked out. As she felt the muscles in her body fail, Faith let the now dull and lifeless Crystal roll out of her arms. An unearthly roar of anger erupted from the red mists swirling in front of her. Faith smiled faintly.

Suddenly at her side appeared the tall gray image of an old gentleman dressed in the garb of the early twentieth century. He wore a faded trench coat and sported a floppy felt hat that he removed and held firmly in one hand. He bent down by Faith reaching towards her and as he did, Faith opened her eyes.

". . . hey . . ." Faith whispered, "Blondie Witch said something about you . . ."

The old gentleman didn't answer, but with an outstretched hand wiped away the wetness that was now streaming down Faith's cheek. He then placed his open palm firmly on her forehead and in another instant their images dissolved away.

The area around the wall was now empty and barren. The screams of the Ancient Ones echoed wildly in the prison of the Void as the crimson light diminished, finally surrendering before the onslaught of complete and utter blackness.

On the street, Buffy stared momentarily at the blood gushing from her hands. She then spun on her knees to stare at the still form of Faith by her side.

"Faith! FAITH!" she cried out to the unresponsive Slayer.

Buffy crawled over and scooped the Slayer up in her arms, at the same time gently pushing aside Faith's black hair off her forehead. Her blood smeared across Faith's skin.

"Faith! Can you hear me?! FAITH?!"

Faith's red eyes stared out as if seeing nothing.

". . . and . . . who . . . are . . . you . . ." she whispered in a dull, lifeless monotone.

Buffy's eyes widened in agony, and her mouth dropped open.

". . . no . . . !"

". . . and . . . who . . . are . . . you . . ." the comatose Slayer whispered again.

Slowly, Buffy turned her gaze towards the tormented sky. Her eyes were wide and glassing over. Her mouth opened fully as if emitting a scream but no sound issued forth. A sudden flash from a nearby building flaring up cast her pupils in the same blood red hue as Faith's.

Then slowly, almost silently, a cry escaped her open mouth. Giles recognized the sound and shuddered. It wasn't loud and piercing but rather like the wailing moan of the lost souls trapped in the Sunnydale Convalescent Hospital. He could only imagine that it was a cry back from across the now sealed boundaries of Hell, but whose voice it was, he couldn't say. The wail rose in volume, wavered, then descended once more to disappear in silence.

Buffy buried her face in Faith's long black hair and smeared her bloody hands across Faith's forehead and up and down her cheeks. Buffy's palms and fingers virtually bathed the fallen Slayer's face and hair in the thick crimson liquid as if somehow her life blood could sponge away the chain of events, long predicted and now complete, that were frozen forever in the fabric of time. Nearby, the blazing front of a building fell off and collapsed in the street. The ground shuddered from the impact.

". . . and . . . who . . . are . . . you . . ." Faith whispered amidst the flames and darkness.

Buffy remained on her knees cradling Faith, rocking back and forth, as the glow from the flaming buildings all around bathed the two Slayers in a preordained baptism of blood and fire.

* * * * * * * *

Go To Chapter 28 


	28. Epilogue This Fragment in Time

**The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind**

**Chapter 28**

**Epilogue  
This Fragment in Time**

by Gaius Petronius

Disclaimer:  
Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB and Mutant Enemy, Inc. This story can be read on its own or as a sequel to H. P. Lovecraft's "The Haunter of the Dark" from which the Ancient Ones, the Shining Trapezohedron and the character of Robert Blake are derived.

**Content Note:** This part is rated PG-13 for violence and some raunchy language.

By four a.m., some of the billowing smoke in the vicinity of Giles' apartment had begun to clear, but the streets were still clogged with wreckage and virtually impassible. The apartment itself had been badly damaged by flying debris during the attack of the Ancient Ones and, without power, was now illuminated only by candles.

Faith lay stretched out motionless on the sofa, her face and hands ghastly pale and her appearance in the flickering candle light, more like a corpse than a living person. Her red eyes were wide open and unblinking. Around her sat Buffy, Xander and Willow, their faces expressionless as if maintaining a death watch. Buffy, her hands swathed in bandages, held one of Faith's hands in hers and gently rubbed it. Every now and then, Xander stood up and paced back and forth in front of the sofa. Finally Willow reached out and grasped him by the arm, urging him gently to sit back down on the floor in front of the sofa by her side.

She knew there was no purpose to any activity. It had been over two hours since they all had returned from the New Age Curiosity Shop through the devastated streets of Sunnydale. They had lain Faith carefully across the back seat of Giles' beat up Citroen. The drive was agonizingly slow, with Giles taking numerous detours around collapsed buildings and downed power lines. By the time they all arrived at the apartment, there was still no change in Faith's condition. Now, Willow had accepted the fact that it was just a matter of waiting.

Giles fussed in the kitchen sweeping up broken glassware, while Anya, Tara and Cordelia attempted to straighten up the battered furniture and piles of fallen books scattered around the floor of the apartment. Kate bucked a sheet of plywood up firmly in place over the shattered living room window as Angel completed nailing it into position.

In the dining alcove, Spike sat at the table, his face glued to a portable battery powered black and white television. The tinny voice of a news announcer from the miniature screen cut through the silence of the apartment.

"The series of violent earthquakes that rocked the Sunnydale area shortly after 10:00 p.m. seem to have subsided for now although authorities are warning residents to be alert for any aftershocks which could follow. There are reports of numerous fires still burning out of control throughout the city while emergency crews have been called in from surrounding towns and from as far away as Los Angeles itself."

Every few moments the picture on the screen dissolved into snow as the signal drifted, then returned.

"Our Live Sky Chopper is on its way to the scene as all communications and power to Sunnydale are out with the total destruction of the municipal power plant. The areas of most serious damage, in addition to the generating station, appear to be in the older section of the downtown, the docks and the vicinity of the UC Sunnydale campus.

"We have reports that a natural gas explosion touched off a massive cave in covering approximately a three square block area between the campus and a neighboring cemetery. No word yet on fatalities but emergency teams report numerous injuries throughout the earthquake area. We'll have more reports as the information becomes available."

In the courtyard outside the apartment, a dozen Initiative soldiers milled around what was turning into a makeshift operations center. In the middle of the group, Riley stood staring off vacantly. Now everything was over, but not in the way in which he had envisioned it. At his side, Graham waited patiently for orders, any kind of orders to keep the surviving Initiative soldiers busy. In the distance, emergency and fire truck sirens wailed continuously.

"Okay, get your men to assist the civilian authorities," Riley finally said to Graham, "First priority is the wounded and controlling those fires."

Graham nodded. As the men began to move, suddenly from just beyond the courtyard, Forrest and several of his squad strode into view leading six injured soldiers. Studying the advancing group, Riley immediately spotted familiar faces. Joel, his hands badly burned, walked under his own speed, while Hunter, barely able to stagger on one leg, limped into the courtyard. He was supported on both sides by Forrest and two other soldiers. A bloodied white rag was tied around his left leg just above the knee and his forehead wrapped in a stained makeshift bandage.

"Holy Shit!" Riley exclaimed, finally letting loose the emotions he had managed to suppress since the conclusion of the battle, "I thought we'd lost you guys!"

His relief was short lived as the Initiative soldiers drew nearer, and he recognized the extent of the injuries.

"Nah, my men found 'em wandering around near the campus," Forrest quipped trying to keep the conversation light, "Figured they were goofing off trying to pick up chicks!"

"No way, sir," Joel piped up as his face squinted with pain from his burned hands, "We executed a perfect RLH maneuver."

Riley's eyebrows rose in a question.

"A 'Run Like Hell!'" Joel grinned, "Tactically sound, don't you think?"

Riley shook his head and smiled in spite of what he could see and the faint scent of burned flesh in the air. He then leaned in close to Hunter who was draped silently between the shoulders of two soldiers.

"Anything I can do for you, Hunter?" Riley asked quietly.

"Yeah," Hunter replied weakly and his voice trembled, "The phones are out, and I really wanted to get a hold of Sandy. See if she's . . . okay."

Riley looked over at Forrest who grinned back reassuringly.

"I read your mind," Forrest said calmly to Hunter, "Johnny and Preston just radioed in. She's on her way over with them right now."

Hunter closed his eyes and nodded.

"Thanks. I gotta lie down now, guys," he said as if every word were an expenditure of energy for which there was only a limited supply remaining.

"I want a cot over here quick!" Riley suddenly screamed furiously at the men, "Where the hell's that fucking medivac bag!"

"Easy, easy! We're on it," Forrest replied as he turned Hunter over to several other soldiers who laid him out gently on the grass in the courtyard.

Riley, his face cast in gloom, glared at Forrest.

"Hey! Why the long face? We won, man!"

Riley stared around at the injured men, the whirling smoke and the cinders that still fell occasionally from the sky. He took a deep breath.  
  
"Yeah, . . .," he said flatly, shaking his head, "I guess we did."

Suddenly, inside the apartment on the couch, Faith began breathing rapidly and her hand trembled in Buffy's. Her body shivered and Willow lowered her head sensing the impending end. In a panic, Buffy called out.

"Giles! Giles!"

Her Watcher moved quickly from the kitchen to Buffy's side. Gently, he took Faith's shivering hand from Buffy and checked for a pulse. He then placed his fingers against the side of Faith's neck. He struggled to hide his emotions, remaining a clinical as possible but the concern on his face was visible to all.

"Giles, . . . what's happening?" Buffy whispered.

"Her heart is racing . . . " he replied, "It's beating wildly out of control. I'm afraid . . . this may be the end."

Willow squeezed Xander's hand as he stared motionless at Faith. Suddenly, Faith sat bolt up right. The move was so unexpected, it caused Willow and Buffy to jump. Xander leaned forward and, holding Faith by the shoulders, tried gently to urge her back down onto the couch.

"Easy, Faith, easy," he said tenderly, "You gotta lie down."

Sensing that something was happening that none of them understood, Buffy gripped Xander by the arm and restrained him.

"No, Xander," she said, "Wait a minute."

It seems like the whole room held its breath as Faith turned to face Buffy.

" . . and . . . who . . . are . . . you . . ." the dying Slayer said in an empty voice.

"What is it, Faith?" Buffy asked intently, "What are ya trying to say?"

As Faith stared blankly at Buffy, she reached her arm up and placed it on Buffy's shoulder as if asking to be assisted to her feet.

"Okay, hang on," Buffy reassured her.

Buffy wrapped one arm around Faith's waist and lifted her to her feet. Faith staggered slowly forward, supported by Buffy, towards the front door.

"What's she doing?" Tara asked, but Willow didn't answer at first. Her mind was racing, the visions of the future now coming together toward one final act that she couldn't yet clearly see.

"I don't know, . . . ," she answered, "But . . I think . . . Faith wants us to follow her."

Buffy gently nursed Faith forward step by step. In a moment both were heading out the front door followed by the rest of the Scooby Gang.

Easy . . . easy, Faith," she said quietly, encouraging the weakened Slayer, "You just show me the way. Show me where you want to go."

As everyone left only Spike remained behind in the apartment. Without looking away from the portable television, he called out to the empty apartment.

"Rupert, be a good Watcher and see if they got the cable up yet."

Just before dawn on a pathway in the deepest and oldest part of the Sunnydale Cemetery, what appeared to be a ragtag procession wound its way among the gravestones, overgrown trees and plantings.

At its head, Faith, supported by Buffy, staggered forward between towering monuments and out into an open clearing. Willow and Giles were by their sides. Straggling out behind followed Riley, Xander, Anya, Tara, Angel, Kate and Cordelia. Giles had insisted that they all come since he, too, knew that an end was approaching for which they all had to be a part.

Suddenly, Faith, breathing heavily and her brow bathed in perspiration, stopped on the edge of the clearing and took Buffy's arm away from her waist. Swaying a little, she managed to stand on her own and step several feet forward without Buffy's assistance. Buffy's face was furrowed with concern while Willow and Giles stared in amazement.

Beneath Faith's feet, the clearing was carpeted in soft green grass. Bordering the open area loomed a semi-circle of towering monuments crowned by white marble figures of angels, guardian beasts and figures of the dead, their covered heads bowed in respect. Willow couldn't shake the impression that they all now stood on the edge of a holy place.

"I still can't believe she can even walk," she whispered. Giles answered her very quietly.

"They say sometimes towards the end, physical strength and a strange mental clarity miraculously reassert themselves one last time. And the patient can even sometimes relate to friends and family what they see in those final moments, . . . their visions of what is to come . . . beyond the veil."

Suddenly, from deep within the clearing appeared a faint white pinpoint of light. The focus of illumination rapidly grew and spread out in a circular motion until it encompassed the far side of the clearing, casting the long shadows of the gravestones back across the faces of Buffy and the others. The mass of light deepened and took on dimensional form until it reached backwards like a vast glowing tunnel stretching far beyond anything visible from this world.

Lining the edges of the tunnel were dozens of human figures stretching away into the distance, all vaguely defined in the soft yet powerful light. There were some men but mostly a large number of young women, little more than teenagers. They wore clothing of all periods ranging from ancient times to the modern day. At the front of the light stood three figures. The first was clearly recognizable as Anson MacDuffie, and Willow gasped when her eyes fell on him.

". . . Giles . . .!" she whispered, restraining the urge to point.

". . . I see him . . ." Giles replied in astonishment following her gaze.

The second figure was a taller gentleman whom Tara instantly recognized though she didn't know how. He wore conservative clothing dating from the early part of the twentieth century. Over his shoulders was draped a long dark trench coat and he carried in his hand a floppy felt hat. His face was long and drawn with piercing eyes that, in Buffy's mind, could see through to the darkest secrets of the soul. At the same time however, the eyes conveyed an infinite sadness as if they bore the weight of centuries of care and sorrow.

Next to him stood a young woman, no older than Buffy and Willow. She wore a light white flowing robe more in keeping with something from ancient times and a warmer climate. Her long blond hair spilled down her shoulders over the robe and stretched almost to her waist. A soft wind rose, and her robe spread out gently behind her in the breeze.

MacDuffie stepped forward out of the light first and walked up to Willow. While clearly visible, there was a softness to his image as if he had no corporeal substance.

"Hello, . . . my Bonnie Lassie," he said quietly.

"Hey . . . Mr. MacDuffie," she answered sniffling.

"I'm afraid I've mucked things up badly for you," he said humbly, "We were supposed to have a little chat but . . . well . . . events got a tad hectic there towards the end."

"That's okay," she said firmly, trying not to let the wetness she felt building up in her eyes start running down her cheeks, "I think I understand . . . what I'm supposed to do."

"Are you sure?" the specter asked.

Willow nodded, now confident.

"Very well, then."

MacDuffie reached out his hand and placed it firmly against Willow's forehead. At the moment of contact, there was a very soft almost imperceptible flash of yellow light where his hand touched her skin and then it was gone. Willow gasped and sensed a tingling in her fingertips. All was suddenly clarity and she stared at MacDuffie with a new understanding.

". . . There . . . the deed is done . . ." he whispered as he drew his hand back.

Willow smiled in spite of the single tear running down her cheek.

"Ahh, none of that now, Lass," the Guardian chided her.

"It's not that," Willow replied wiping her face, "It's just . . . where am I going to get my chamomile tea from now on?"

"Oh dear . . . this is a problem," he mused, rubbing his chin, "Well . . . I hear there's some very strange shop in the mall. A young lady there has some things behind the counter but they're not very . . . fresh . . ."

Willow couldn't help but let out small laugh that somehow softened everything that she was feeling. MacDuffie smiled and stepped back into the light.

"Farewell, my dear Guardian," he said with finality, "I leave things in your very capable care. May the Goddess always be with you."

As MacDuffie faded back into the light, the tall gentleman at his side stepped up in front of Faith. For a few moments, neither moved. Then, very slowly, he took his free hand and ran it slowly across Faith's face. As his hand passed by, the ghastly pallor of Faith's complexion vanished away. Her eyes suddenly shone again with their natural rich mahogany brown. She stopped trembling and was able to stand up straight. She shook her head, as if her mind had just returned from a long journey, and looked up at the tall, imposing figure in front of her. She recognized him immediately.

". . . hey . . . " she said hesitantly, "Mr. Lovecraft . . ."

". . . hello, Faith . . ." he answered very softly.

His gaze drifted out over the Scooby Gang and fell on Tara.

"You must be Tara," he said motioning her forward, "You know me as Randolph Carter. At least that's the name I gave myself in my stories. You performed your task well, and we are all greatly in your debt."

Tara was speechless and stared almost stunned at the shimmering figure before her.

"There's someone I want you very much to meet," the old gentleman said turning to Faith once more.

Lovecraft held his hand out to the young woman by his side. She approached Faith and stood just a few feet in front of her. Her white flowing robe still blew gently in the steady breeze. She was just a touch shorter than Faith, and her long blond hair hung in waves over her shoulders. She looked to be the same age as Faith who eyed her up and down.

"Who the hell are you?"

When the woman answered, her voice was clear and crisp but with a sassy undertone.

"Hi . . . My name's Karintha . . . but my buds call me Kari."

"Well, guess what, I'm gonna call you 'K'" Faith replied half sarcastically but nervously.

"That's all right," Karintha smirked right back, "Just don't get confused."

"Not much chance of that while you're wearing those duds," Faith smirked as she eyed Karintha's flowing robes. She then cast a glance back over her shoulder towards Buffy.

"Although you remind me a lot of another chick I already know," she said.

"I like the outfit," Karintha said casually but sincerely, indicating Faith's black leather jacket, "Is it leather?"

"The real baby."

"Can I touch it?"

"Uh . . . sure . . ." Faith answered, puzzled, "But don't get funny. I only dig guys."

Karintha stepped up to Faith and ran her hand up and down the soft black front of Faith's jacket.

"Wow . . . I'd forgotten what it felt like," Karintha said, marveling at the softness of the jacket, "I never was allowed to wear leather. Something about Hathor being sacred to Isis and all that shit."

"Are you gonna talk weird like Giles?" Faith scowled.

"Nah, that's okay," Karintha answered, thumbing at MacDuffie and Lovecraft, "I never can figure out what they're talking about, either."

The image of the young woman in front of Faith flickered and resumed speaking after a pause.

"Listen . . . I think we gotta go now."

"Yeah, . . ." Faith answered resigned and discouraged, "I figured after this was over, I wasn't gonna hang around here anymore. So where are ya taking me? Slayer Heaven or some other deadsville place where we sit around playing harps and forget what it was like . . . to be alive?"

"Nothing like that!" Karintha grinned.

"Whew! That's a relief. I mean I was just beginning to get my shit together here and then . . . " Faith suddenly sighed and continued sadly, ". . . I blew it again. I went and lost it all."

"No you didn't," Karintha said softly as she reached out and put her hands on Faith's shoulders to reassure her, "You saved it all. But sometimes you have to give up the things you love the most in order to save them."

"That sucks."

"No shit. Been there."

"You saved the world once, too, didn't ya?" Faith said in awe as she looked Karintha straight in the eyes.

". . . yeah . . ." the vision answered quietly as if reliving her own ancient pain, "A long time ago."

"So . . . where _are_ we going?"

"Relax, this'll be a blast," Karintha replied easily, "There is so much more out there than just your cheesy little Sunnydale. It even beats LA!"

Karintha gazed up at the sky. Faith followed her eyes.

"There are realms and levels of existence," the image continued, "Different universes, worlds beyond time and space. Our being stretches far beyond the physical forms we take on here in this place for our brief moment in time. And the only limits are our own hopes and dreams. You still got dreams, don't cha?"

"Yeah. . . . I guess so . . ." Faith said sadly, looking back down at the ground, "I don't quite get it but it sounds sorta cool. So they need Slayers, huh?

"Hey! You and me, babe. . . " Karintha grinned as she wrapped her arm around Faith's shoulder, "We're not Slayers anymore. . . . You're a Guardian now."

"Hang on a sec," Faith scowled again, "This is getting weird."

"Come on! Go for it!" Karintha punched her playfully in the arm, "You defeated _the Ancient Ones!_ Gave your life and soul to do it. You did more than any of us ever have. By going through that ordeal, you were transformed. You've left the pain, the agony, those things that held you back, . . . you're now leaving them all behind . . ."

"Now I really don't get it!" Faith shook her head. Suddenly MacDuffie and Lovecraft were standing close by her side.

"Faith, the Guardians watch over all levels of space and time," MacDuffie explained carefully, "Over the centuries many of us have remained behind here because of the threat to this universe from the Ancient Ones. Because of your victory and your sacrifice, that task here is complete. There will be new threats to this world, of course . . . " Here he cast a glance back in Willow's direction, ". . . but those will fall to new Guardians and Slayers to handle."

"We all have our Realms and realities over which we stand watch," Lovecraft added," I patrol the Dark. And Faith, . . . you . . . and those who battled by your side, you all are now of the Guardians of the Gates of Dawn."

Karintha bowed her head as she knelt down in respect before Faith.

"You see, hun, I only started it," the white robed woman said with a touch of awe in her voice, "But you . . . you did what none of us could do . . . You finished the job."

Faith couldn't take it anymore. She reached out, sliding her fingers under the tip of Karintha's chin. Gently she tipped the young woman's head back up to look at her.

"Hey, what the hell's this shit!" Faith said and her brown eyes sparkled, "Don't you do that!"

"But why not?" Karintha answered, "You earned it. You're now the foremost among us . . . besides, I thought that's what you always wanted."

At those words, Faith glanced sadly back over her shoulder at Buffy.

". . . yeah . . ." she said quietly almost to herself, "So did I . . ."

There was a long pause. Faith then looked up hopefully at Karintha as the specter rose to her feet.

"Do we get to kick any ass?"

"Wait'll you see the shitheads we gotta keep in line . . ." Karintha smirked. She then asked gently, "You ready?"

"Wait . . ." Faith frowned, "I did a lot of fucked up stuff here. I owe some people big time. Can I have a sec to try and clear some shit up?"

Karintha glanced over at Lovecraft who nodded. Faith turned and stepped back towards the Scooby Gang. She stopped before Giles first.

"I just want you to know, you were a good Watcher" she said without being able to look him in the eyes, ". . . and it wasn't your fault."

Giles only nodded.

"You know how I know?" Faith continued, now making eye contact with Giles, "'Cause those old prunes on the Council threw yer ass out. _That _I can identify with."

". . . the thought is appreciated," he answered quietly, but with the faintest wry smile, "Goodbye, Faith . . ."

". . . yeah . . ." Faith nodded as she turned to Cordelia.

"See ya 'round, Cords. I give up. You're _the bitch._ No challenge here."

"And don't you forget it!" Cordelia grinned back.

Faith suddenly found herself facing the towering figure of Angel and unexpectedly speaking from her heart.

"You're the only one I could never figure out," she said sincerely, "I mean, you really had me going there. I could of sworn that . . . I guess you got your own road to travel . . ."

Faith's voice trailed off for a moment.

". . . anyway . . . sorry for lying . . ." she finally continued and added an afterthought, ". . . And trying to kill you."

"I'm already dead, Faith," Angel answered.

"See! That's what I mean!" she exclaimed as she turned to the other Scoobies, "Brood dude! Never smiles!" For a moment the clearing was silent as Faith returned her attention to Angel.

"I hope you find . . . whatever it is."

"Thanks," he replied.

Faith then walked over in front of Xander and Anya. Xander, not knowing what to expect, stared a little fearfully at her then back at Anya as he wondered which woman was going kill him first. Instead, Faith just grinned playfully.

"Hey, lover boy," and she reached out and pinched him on the cheek. "You're so cute!"

Faith then spotted Anya's glare. The ex-demon was almost boiling over with jealousy.

"A little advice, demon girl," she said with a conspiratorial tone in her voice, "If he ever cheats on ya . . . cut his balls off!"

Relieved, Anya almost burst out laughing and Xander rolled his eyes. Then, before Faith could move on to Willow, Xander stepped up to the fallen Slayer's side. He pushed away her black hair from the side of her face, kissed her lightly on the cheek and whispered tenderly in her ear.

". . . Goodbye, Faith . . ."

As he stepped back, Faith stared at him silently. For a moment, she felt something she had never felt before and at the same time, her face betrayed only to him the faintest hint of longing for something that she never realized until now she had ever even lost.

Faith then slowly turned to Willow. The two studied each other for a moment, neither sure exactly what to say.

"Hey, sorry for raggin' on you, Red."

Willow didn't answer but only gave Faith a steely glare.

"What?" Faith exclaimed with surprise, "No 'that's okay. Forget it. All's forgiven?'"

"No way," Willow answered coldly, "You beat the crap outta me. You tried to kill me and everybody I love. You screwed up graduation big time."

"Hey, I tried to help Buffy stop that," Faith exclaimed sarcastically as she raised her arms to take in the clearing around them, "Didn't I just _save the world_? Look at me, Red! I've changed."

"Yeah, maybe," Willow answered seriously, "But I haven't. Not enough yet anyway."

Faith reached out and grasped Willow by the arms, turning her so neither could look away from the other.

"You 'see' stuff now, right, Red? Bits and pieces of the future and all?"

"Yeah . . .?" Willow replied puzzled and uncomfortable in Faith's iron grip.

"And you don't get what just happened here?" Faith shook her head incredulously, "I'm not the only one that's changed. You're changing too, Red, along with everyone else, whether you see it or not. Hell, I never knew it was happening to me either. You, more than anybody, I gotta make it right with . . . cause of what you are now, you'll be the next to pass this way."

Willow was silent for a moment. Faith released her hold on Willow who tried to look away but couldn't.

"I know you get it," Faith said, "Now you gotta believe it."

Willow then looked up into Faith's brown eyes and the two stared at each other. Although Willow could still sense the wall between them, the gentle breeze blew a few strands of her red hair as it did the same with Faith's rich black hair.

". . . it's gonna take some time, Faith . . ." she finally answered after a long pause.

"I know . . .think about it though. Bye, Red."

Faith turned and found herself standing before Buffy. The two Slayers locked eyes on each other. Finally Faith reached out and took Buffy's bandaged hands in hers.

"Geez, a little overboard there, 'B', ya think?"

Buffy shook her head and didn't reply. She wanted to say something, anything at this moment, to somehow make things right between them but her thoughts were overwhelmed by the images standing all around them both.

Then, Faith's hand rose to Buffy's face and gently massaged the huge shiner building around her eye as well as the bruise that was faintly visible on the side of her face.

"Wow, I really did that, huh?" Faith smirked.

"Duh!" was all Buffy could spit out.

"Hell of a way to have to connect . . . with someone you really wanted to like you," Faith said softly.

Then, for a reason she couldn't fathom, as if an unknown force beyond her own powers had taken control of her body, Buffy reached out with her hand. Her fingers extended, she slipped them between the open front of Faith's leather jacket and touched her in the middle of her abdomen.

Faith suddenly cried out in agony and almost doubled up with the pain. In a vice like grip, she grabbed Buffy's extended arm by the wrist but couldn't pull the fingertips away from the spot where Buffy plunged in the knife so many months before. For a second, the two stood together, Buffy staring in horror at her uncontrollable action and Faith gripped by the searing pain as if she were impaled on the ceremonial knife once again.

And then, instead of struggling to draw back from Buffy, Faith took her hands off Buffy's arm, leaned forward and placed one hand around the back of Buffy's head, burying the fingers in her blond hair. The other she wrapped around Buffy's shoulders. Slowly but steadily, Faith drew Buffy towards her until she had the smaller Slayer fully wrapped in her embrace.

Shivering with the stabbing agony which now spread out and racked her whole body, Faith still would not break free of Buffy's body but rather held her close as if every second of the pain were an awakening of understanding. Buffy's eyes were wide with horror, but she was powerless to pull away from Faith's unyielding embrace.

". . . no . . . no, Faith . . . don't . . ." Buffy pleaded.

Faith's grip was unwavering.

"Yes . . . it was you, 'B'. . . " Faith, her voice quivering, whispered in Buffy's ear as the two were wrapped in the agony of the embrace, "You little goody two shoes shit . . . _you_ saved me!"

Suddenly the pain receded from Faith's face. As quickly as it began, she released her hold on Buffy who drew back her hand quickly. Now, free at last, each stepped away from the other.

". . . You got it wrong, Faith . . . " Buffy said quietly, her voice still trembling from the experience, "We both died that night. . . . that's why we had the dream . . .together. Maybe . . . maybe we saved each other."

"You're just trying to make me feel better," Faith answered with a wry grin through the receding pain.

"Why the hell would I want to do that?" Buffy smiled back sadly.

"Yeah, you're right. As always," Faith answered with her characteristic sarcastic smile as she gazed at Buffy.

There was a long pause. Faith finally looked over her shoulder towards Karintha and the other flickering images receding into the distance.

"Okay . . . " she said firmly, "I'm ready . . . let's go."

Before Faith could walk away, Buffy grabbed her by the arm and the two faced each other. To Buffy's own astonishment she wrapped her arms around Faith, embracing silently for a few moments. Faith then stepped back from Buffy and turned to follow Karintha who was walking away, along with MacDuffie and Lovecraft, into the now fading tunnel of light. Faith called out over her shoulder.

"Bye, 'B.' Bye, guys! I'll save ya all a seat!"

The light drifted swiftly away and the image of the tunnel dissolved. Willow and Giles both struggled to catch one last sight of Anson MacDuffie as his tall form joined the other fading shadows. Tara watched intently as Lovecraft replaced his floppy hat on his head and then merged in with the rest of the disappearing figures. Then all was gone as darkness replaced the light.

For a long time, the Scooby Gang stood silently on the spot in the cemetery, each one alone with their own private thoughts.

"It's over . . . " Willow said at last, breaking the silence, "It's finally over."

". . . yeah . . ." Buffy answered, her voice barely audible.

Suddenly Willow pointed in the distance.

". . . look!"

Somewhere to the east, beyond the canopy of trees, the faintest hint of dawn slipped above the horizon and began to filter in through the leaves.

Buffy, with Riley at her side, started walking back along the path which wound down to one of the cemetery service roads. The others followed, silent but still in need of one another's company. The pavement led directly towards the large arched east main gate to the cemetery which Buffy could quickly see in the distance looming over the sea of headstones. Unspeaking, the others followed.

Finally Kate piped up, her cheery sarcastic voice breaking the gloom.

"Hey . . ." she snapped at Angel as she elbowed him in the ribs, "I like that name."

". . . what? . . . what name?" he asked, puzzled at her perky attitude. "What are you talking about?"

"Brood Dude! It fits!"

Buffy couldn't help but snicker.

Colors in the sky at the base of the horizon began to replace the ever pervasive black of the night. Giles nodded toward the sky as he spoke to Angel.

"Uh, Angel . . . don't you think . . . ?"

"Oh, yeah. You're right," Angel agreed, realizing that dawn was only a few minutes away.

"Crap, we better get you the hell outta here!" Kate sang out, "I gotta get back to LA anyway. They're probably wondering what happened to me at the precinct."

"You coming, Cordelia?" Angel asked.

Cordelia cast a quick questioning glance at Giles who smiled back and nodded.

"You guys go ahead," she replied, "Giles'll give me a ride down later."

Kate and Angel separated off from the rest of the group. As they walked together in the diminishing darkness towards the west gate, Kate grinned mischievously and there was a sparkle in her eye.

"You know, I just remembered," she remarked a little too casually, "The top on that old convertible tank of yours, does that thing still work?"

Angel glanced nervously at the sky and then at Kate.

"Very funny, Kate."

"No, really," she deadpanned, "'Leggs' said she tried it just before you guys blew down here, and she couldn't get it to go up. Something about it being jammed."

Cordelia, who overheard the conversation as Angel and Kate left, broke into a grin and covered her mouth with her hand. Kate quickly stole a glance back at Cordelia, and the two shared an evil smile.

This was going to be good. Cordelia marveled at how easily Kate could fool her boss. Maybe she could talk Kate into getting her a raise. Maybe Kate could talk Angel into something else, too. It would be a riot, Cordelia thought wistfully, to see Angel really smile for a change.

Struggling to conceal his building panic, Angel broke into a run towards the street.

". . . shit! . . ."

"Wait up! I'll give ya a hand!" Kate shouted as she followed close behind him.

The two quickly disappeared together through the trees and surrounding monuments. For a few moments more, Buffy and the others wandered down the widening service road. The subtle brightening of their surroundings also brought the color of daylight to their faces and their moods lightened.

With Buffy and Riley in the lead, the Scooby Gang approached the East cemetery gate. The rays from the sunrise spilled over the top of the wall's gray stones. For a moment, the height of the wall held the light back but quickly the rising angle of the sun allowed the daylight to flow in, and the wall was bathed in the cleansing soft hues of dawn. A gentle breeze blew, stirring the leaves. Buffy, now finally relaxed for the first time in weeks, turned to Willow.

"Hey, Spike said you guys had a party the other day . . . and got drunk! . . . and you didn't invite me!"

"Yeah, sorry about that. Giles!" Willow exclaimed turning to the Watcher, "I have an idea! How about you, me and Buffy get together at the shop this afternoon and we'll have our own little party!"

Willow grinned as if sharing a special joke with Giles.

"Just before three o'clock okay?"

"I don't see any reason why not," Giles said with a subtle grin.

"It'll be a 'we saved the world' type party. We'll celebrate!" Willow continued, her enthusiasm building, "What the heck, everybody's invited! We didn't blow away all the 'refreshments' did we Giles?"

"I should hope not!" he answered, a little concerned at the thought of how much single malt scotch from his precious cache was still left after their last "end of the world party."

"You guys are up to something," Buffy said, puzzled.

"No, we're not" Willow replied innocently, "But everybody who's coming, . . . has to sing."

"What?" Buffy exclaimed at this off the wall requirement.

"You know, sing! Like la, la, la."

Buffy scowled at Willow.

"I like to sing . . ." Giles said mostly to himself.

"Me, too!" Willow agreed, "And Buffy sings real good."

Willow turned to Buffy, "I hear you in the shower in the morning. Giles, she has a pretty little voice!"

"I _don't_ sing and I _don't_ have a 'pretty little voice!'" Buffy snapped back at the insinuation.

"Oh, piffle," Giles huffed.

"_. . . what? . . ." _Buffy announced in astonishment at the peculiar word.

"_Not now, Giles," _Willow declared to Giles as she turned to Buffy and presented her ultimatum, "Yes, you do. This is important. There's something special I have to share with you, and you're coming!"

Buffy glanced over to Riley who shrugged and smiled with a "Go for it!" look on his face. Buffy sighed and faced up to Willow.

"Okay, we'll be there!"

Willow grinned broadly.

"That's my . . . !" Willow announced but suddenly stopped.

Her eyes glistened up, as if, in mid sentence, she remembered something that broke her heart a long time ago.

". . . Bonnie Lassie . . ." she finished the sentence sadly to Buffy.

"Huh?" the Slayer's eyebrows rose in utter confusion.

Willow didn't answer. Rather she gazed peacefully ahead towards the approaching cemetery gate and the dawn light issuing from beyond. Quietly, she started humming the melody to the old Scottish folk song, "Wild Mountain Thyme" that she, Giles and MacDuffie sang together in their darkest hour. After a moment, Giles, now smiling at Willow, joined in. He then followed her gaze into the sunlight while his own mellow tenor harmonized with her soft soprano. As they passed through the gate, Willow sang the words.

". . . and we'll all go together,  
to pull wild mountain thyme,  
all across the purple heather,  
Will ye go, Lassie, will ye go . . ."

Her sweet voice drifted gently through the surrounding stones and trees.

Giles and finally Buffy, who wasn't too sure of the words, picked up the chorus as well.

". . . and we'll all go together,  
to pull wild mountain thyme,  
all across the purple heather,  
Will ye go, Lassie, will ye go . . .

Tara, Xander, Anya, Riley and Cordelia, humming along as well, followed them through the cemetery gate and into the new morning sunlight that brightened moment by moment. All around, the sweet dawn air was fresh, and the breeze which stirred the trees, invigorating. Buffy took a deep breath.

She had forgotten how good it felt, the sunlight on her face, the clean fresh morning air. She suddenly realized that, for this one moment, everything was as it should be. The pain of the past was gone and there was no knowing the future, so this single instant was what she treasured and held close to her heart. This fragment in time with these people she loved all around her, this really was forever, . . . if only for just a moment.

Buffy smiled as she drew Riley close and spoke quietly now to herself.

". . . and we'll all go together . . ." she said softly.

The rising sun bathed them all in the warmth and brilliance of the new day.

_FINIS_

_Some words at the end._

The original script version of The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind was conceived and written during the fall and winter of 1999-2000 in mid season 4 of BtVS and season 1 of AtS. I would like to thank sincerely those who beta read at that time, Bitca, Robyn the Snowshoe Hare, Hunter the Kimodo Dragon and others whom I can't remember right off hand.

Also many thanks to Karen T. who archived the monster on the SFA and Anya who put up with all the nonsense at the time.

I always intended to novelize the story but never really found the time or impetus until this past spring. I also wrestled with whether to "update" the story to take into account a number of the "Jossings" that have occured since 2000 but decided to keep the plot completely as I finished it in 2000, respecting it as a true "moment in time" during the show's development.

With the passing of three years and three seasons, I have been surprised by the number of ideas that appeared in "Wind" that ultimately or simultaneously made their way into the show, (not because the scriptwriters were familiar with this story, Hardly!) because they are, for lack of a better word, "archetypical" and spring from natural questions anyone would ask about BtVS and love to see developed in an episode.

These include, the return of Faith, the destruction of the Initiative, the concept of the First Slayer (these all appeared during the second half of season 4) as well as the ancient book (the Res Profana) written before human existence (a prop used in the final season of BtVS that dates back to Lovecraft), the New Age Curiosity Shop (several readers have asked me if this is the Magic Shop,) the concept of the Guardians, and the destruction of Sunnydale among others. I'd throw in references to Giles' singing and occasional uses of "piffle" but that's taking it a little too far!

Above all, I'd like to acknowledge the debt that "Wind," the Buffyverse and indeed all modern supernatural fiction owes to H. P. Lovecraft, the then obscure horror writer of the early twentieth century and creator of the Cthulhu Mythos who died in poverty and obscurity in 1937 and whose stories still provide the foundation for so much we take for granted today in supernatural fiction.

10/27/03

pax,

Petronius 


End file.
